


REHAB

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia Nervosa, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Kissing, M/M, Mickey Milkovich/OMC - Freeform, Mickey moving on, Post 6x01, Roommates, Self Loathing, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, tags and characters will be added in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 141,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6561895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he’s let out of prison, Mickey finds himself lost. Not so much geographically, more so mentally. Svetlana seems to have her own life now, along with all of his siblings. Ian... he doesn’t know what the fuck to think about the Ian situation; but his heart hurts. So badly. </p><p>To top it all off, he somehow ends up running into a tall, blue haired freak with with an accent that shouldn’t sound half as attractive as it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

Sounds of cells opening and closing filled his ears as he put one foot in front of the other, getting himself forwards. There was a fight going on somewhere in the building, but his ears registered it as quite far away, so he made a conscious decision not to care about that right now. Muffled sounds of people talking also reached his ears, but he didn’t bother to decipher the words. His - technically way too large - Dr. Martens combat boots were safely laced over his foot and around his ankles, making sure that they didn’t go anywhere as he moved. A pair of black skinny jeans sat tightly wrapped around his thin legs, all but painted on; the oversized grey muscle tee hanging underneath the leather jacket, his arms dangling semi-confidently by his sides as he made his way further into the building.

 

A guard recognized him and let him through, to which he smiled appreciatively as he walked past him, into the visiting room. There were oval-shaped tables all over the place, and as usual there were also people sitting by them. Talking, crying - even some who were laughing. It took him a second to spot her. She was placed by one of the tables in the corner, alone as she waited for him. The short-sleeved orange jumpsuit hanging off of her tiny frame like a sheet; her long black hair pulled up into a messy, half pony tail, a skinny strand or two slipping out of it and hanging in front of her makeup free face instead. Her brown skin somehow glittered ever so slightly in the sun shining in through the large, barred window, her eyes focused on the outside world as she held her own hand, absentmindedly scraping at her nails.

 

“Hey” He spoke, getting the woman’s attention as he stood in front of her on the other side of the table. She turned her head, a small - and somewhat mischievous, but that was just her natural state - smile growing across her face.

 

“Hey, Jaym” She greeted, big brown eyes looking up at the tall man right as he sat down on the bench that was attached to the table, using two fingers to salut one of the guards who seemed to keep a close eye on them; god knows Winnie probably wasn’t the biggest rule-follower in this place. Then again, after so many visits from her friend, the workers had all learned by now that he was pretty much her polar opposite, so they had let go a little bit in comparison to the first time he had walked in; despite how he looked.

 

“Brought you these, Win. Figured you didn’t have any left by now, huh?” Jayme said as he reached into the right pocket of his leather jacket, placing a new pack of cigarettes on the flat plastic surface in between them. Despite her terrible luck with the whole going to prison thing, Winnie had to be extremely thankful that she had ended up in one that hadn’t banned smoking just yet - if she hadn’t been able to have her four cigarettes a day, chances were she would have ended up going crazy; not in a fun or a joking way either.

 

“Great, thanks” The young woman nodded, placing her hand over the pack and picking it up, her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowing a little bit at the plastic wrapped around it. “It’s new” She stated, looking up into her best friend’s eyes as she waited for an answer as to why he hadn’t bummed one on the way here.

 

“Told you I’m done with all of that stuff by now, no?” Jayme reminded her, his voice just as deep as it had been ever since they had been thirteen, the accent just as thick despite his many years spent in the united states. “Plus, there ain’t no way they would let you have that if there could be something hid inside” He said truthfully, bringing his right hand up to his head, running his skinny, tattoo-covered fingers through the semi-long strands of wavy and bright blue hair to get some of it out of his face, thankful that he had been too tired to style it when he had woken up today.

 

“Guess you really are done then?” The girl spoke, the words somewhat of a thick mixture between an australian and a british accent; she got her lighter out of her pocket, unwrapping the plastic from around the pack right before she realized that she couldn’t smoke around her friend anymore. She closed it up with a slight sigh, putting it to the side as she looked back up at Jayme, raising her eyebrows a little bit. “Never got the point of that whole quitting thing, but whatever gets you through the night, I guess”

 

“Yeah. Just don’t want to put myself in that position anymore, you know?” He just answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders, the morning sun shining in over his face and casting a shadow, making the metal jewellery in his eyebrow glitter a little bit more than it usually did. “How are you doing in here by now, huh? Make any new friends?” Jayme changed the subject, not feeling the need to dwell on the path of cigarettes and alcohol; with what they had both gone through together in relation to that stuff - it could get dreary quite quickly.

 

Winnie pulled her shoulders up a little bit, her collar bones poking out of her body with the movement; and after years upon years of knowing this girl, Jayme could immediately spot the slight tinge of pain in her eyes despite the fact that it wouldn’t be even remotely visible to anybody else on the planet.

 

“I’ve mastered the square knot” She spoke, the virtually meaningless statement making her best friend’s lips pull upwards just a little bit; whether it was in pity, sadness or kindness - neither of them would probably ever find out.

 

“Well at least that’s good, no?”

 

“Yeah. You know how much I like to wear clothes out of knotted string. It’s fucking great” The same sound came out of both of their noses at the same time; a sound somewhere in between a sigh and a chuckle because neither of them really knew what to say to that. Lately Jayme could easily tell that his friend was getting incredibly sick of being locked up in this place, but there was nothing either of them could do about it, so he had since long decided not to bring that up.

 

In fact, there wasn’t a lot of things that Jayme did bring up whenever he visited Winnie. They mostly just sat there, joking back and forth; he just knew that she needed her friend.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey swallowed thickly, head slightly dipped as he looked down at his own feet, watching the heavy and old boots take the ground bit by bit. This wasn’t usually who he was; Mickey wasn’t the kind of person to feel sorry for himself, the kind of guy who felt as if he couldn’t take care of himself - he could. He definitely could, and he had been doing it for twenty years by now. But he would be a liar if he didn’t admit - even to himself - that in this very moment, he felt alone. Something that he had probably felt a lot lately, he just hadn’t really let himself go there. He had family, right? He had brothers, a kid - he was supposed to have Ian. Or at least he used to. He had a sister somewhere.

 

However, today was the first day in over three months that he was free. Free from cells, free from fucking prison jello - free. And… he was alone. No brothers outside of the building as he had excited. No wife, no ex boyfriend - nothing. So he had swallowed his pride, and he had started walking.

 

Mickey didn’t know where he was going - of course home had been his idea at first, but somehow by now he had been walking for the better part of an hour, and that wasn’t where his feet were carrying him at all. He didn’t know really how he felt about all of this shit, he didn’t know where he was going or how long he was going to be gone for. All he could possibly tell at this point was that after everything that had happened, he couldn’t stay here. And he couldn’t cry. Crying would do nothing but decrease his opinion of himself - low as it may be at this point in his life.

 

It was all kind of a blur, the past few months - maybe even the past couple of years. Mickey wasn’t all that sure how he had gotten to this point. How he had fallen in love with Ian, how he had managed to screw it up so fucking royally despite his absolute best efforts to keep him happy. Mickey didn’t want to think about how he had managed to get himself locked up in prison, and he hadn’t been listening when they had told him why he was getting out early - which made the past weeks of his life all the more confusing. He didn’t know what he wanted either. Did he want to re-connect with his brothers? Did he want to get back together with Ian, or did he just plainly and simply need to be on his own for a while?

 

Fuck if Mickey knew. All he knew was that his body was starting to become a little bit chilly despite the large jacket he was wearing; the same one that he had been wearing almost every single day in the time before he had gotten locked up. Prison shouldn’t be a big deal - not to a Milkovich - but Mickey had to admit that in some kind of way he did feel some damage from going through it.

 

Not from anything that he had had to suffer through in there persay, but just the fact that he went. Mickey had never really seen himself as a good guy, or as somebody who deserved a good life - he wasn’t really, right? He was just… Mickey. He didn’t really deserve anything more than what he had had before he had gotten arrested. But at the same time, he had always known that in some kind of way he was different from his brothers and his father. Not just because he was gay, but because he was… just, who he was.

 

It had never really been a conscious thought or anything like that, but lately Mickey had started to realize that he felt like a complete failure. Getting locked up in prison at nineteen years old, it… it just wasn’t a good thing - not even for a Milkovich. He guessed that in some ways, he hadn’t wanted to be that guy. Juvie was a different thing - growing up the way he did, it had been a sure thing that he would end up in there a few times. Jail? Prison? Maybe in some ways Mickey had promised himself that he would never let himself go that far. So much for that promise.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey supposed that somehow his unconscious plan had been to take a long walk and think things over before turning around and walking back to the old neighborhood. Grab a drink at the alibi, maybe even head over to the house and see if Svetlana needed any help with Yevgeny. This aside, the next two hours or so passed by rather quickly, and he never stopped walking. Nor did he end up turning around.

 

No, Mickey’s lips were slightly parted, stinging with how dry they were as he continued moving forwards, having nothing even close to a destination in mind. His hands were in the large pockets of his jacket, curled up into fists as he hoped that it would at least end up doing something to keep him a little bit warmer as the chilly weather was starting to register with him even a little bit more.

 

Maybe it was irresponsible and immature - maybe even unnecessary and childish, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to really give a shit. After everything that had happened - Svetlana, his son, Ian, fucking Sammy, Mandy - all of it. Right now he just realized that it was all too much for him, and he couldn’t go back to that neighborhood. Not right now, at least.

 

Back in the very beginning of his prison sentence, Mickey had almost fooled himself into believing that the whole breakup thing with Ian hadn’t happened. That it had just been a fight, or something that they could work out. Then he had come to visit - give or take a fifty dollar bill - and Mickey had realized that it wasn’t. This wasn’t something that the two of them would ever end up really working out, and truth be told - Mickey wasn’t all too sure how he felt about that.

 

Ian Gallagher hadn’t just been a big part of his life - Ian Gallagher had been his life. Whether that was healthy or not could be debated, Mickey assumed. But that was the truth. So now that he didn’t have that anymore - not that he literally seemed to have nobody but himself - he didn’t really know what to do. Where to go or how to feel. Maybe that was why his feet continued moving over that asphalt, further and further away from the prison and in the opposite direction of the neighborhood he grew up in. Because he was confused - and because he couldn’t handle being confused anymore.

 

Mickey swallowed roughly; the dark colored denim around his legs becoming colder with every minute that ticked by, reminding him that it wasn’t summer anymore. In fact, fall was even starting to come to an end soon, and the Illinois weather had surely caught onto that fact. Not much noise filled the man’s ears as he walked, his mind anywhere but inside his body. A few cars in the distance, a dog barking. His heavy shoes hit the ground over and over again in somewhat of a comforting pace. Mickey wasn’t all too sure if the feeling surrounding him like a cloud would be identified as numb or confused - maybe both in some kind of twisted way.

 

Mickey walked on gravel, and then he was back on asphalt again, heading over areas and through neighborhoods that he had never seen before. He still wasn’t sure about what he was going to do, really. He didn’t know if he wanted to turn back soon and get himself back to where he would know his surroundings - where he would know people. Or if he just wanted to find a motel room or some shit for tonight and then start to walk back tomorrow morning. It wasn’t all that late just yet, but by now he was quite a bit away from home - well, at least a couple of hours away from the old neighborhood. He wasn’t sure if he even had a home anymore. Mickey knew that the people back home didn’t hate him, he wasn’t that stupid.

 

They just didn’t really care, and the truth was that he didn’t need them to either. Getting some kind of greeting after months in prison would have been kind of nice, though. Somehow. Maybe. It was possible that that thought made Mickey more sensitive than he would ever really liked to be perceived, but so be it. It was the truth.

 

The more minutes that ticked by, the colder the air seemed to become, and the slower Mickey started walking. It wasn’t freezing - not like it would have been, had it been the winter months - but it was cold enough that he could feel the skin of his face start to flush a little bit, the little hairs on his legs start to stand up, his toes losing just a tad bit of the sensation - though that could also be from all of the walking he had done in the past few hours.

 

Much like his head was starting to pound from all of the thinking. This was stupid and unnecessary - he knew that. But taking some kind of a break was also something that he found necessary at the moment; in a way that he had never really felt it before. It wasn’t as if he could exactly grab the next plane to Hawaii on his budget and rent a hut for a few days - so a long, cold walk, it was.

 

Mickey dug the tips of his fingers into his pockets, his shoulders rising a little bit in an attempt to shield his ears and part of his face from the wind that was starting to become a little bit heavier. The dark green fabric of the jacket did a pretty good job at keeping his torso warm - or at prevent it from freezing so badly that Mickey was shaking - as far as his legs and face went, he wasn’t as lucky.

 

He continued to move forwards, and did his best to distract himself from the cold by going back and time, trying to figure out where the fuck he went wrong. How he ended up… well… here. On this road with the nightfall no more than an hour or two away. Alone in the cold. Mickey wasn’t stupid enough to blame it on anybody else, he had surely made a series of bad decisions that had gotten him here. Because that’s who he was - or at least what he felt like at this moment. This point in his life. A guy who had made a ton of terrible decisions and didn’t really deserve a better life than one alone. Stupid. He somehow chuckled a little bit internally. He was stupid.

 

From letting himself fall in love with Ian Gallagher to letting himself believe that he could somehow be enough for him. That he could save him or some shit. He couldn’t. Mickey was just… Mickey. He didn’t have any experience with caring for people - not in that particular way. Though he had to admit that taking care of people made him feel somewhat… not important. But good. It felt good to take care of the people he cared about and make sure that they had anything and everything that they needed. But he had failed with Ian, and he hadn’t really had the guts with Mandy. Now they were both probably in worse places than they had been from the beginning. All thanks to Mickey.

 

Mickey wasn’t suicidal or anything like that, and he didn’t feel as if he wanted to cry anymore. He just felt empty. Like a failure; that was the one word that seemed to come back in circles no matter how much he spun everything around in his thick head over and over again. A failure. He felt like a failure. He was a failure. When he closed his eyes, he could still see that look in Ian’s eyes. The empty one. The one that he had had the day that he had broken up with Mickey, and the one that he had had the day when he had come to visit him in prison. Ian saw it too. Mickey knew he did. He saw how Mickey had failed him, he saw how Mickey had failed his sister - how he had failed his son. Mickey Milkovich was a failure.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey continued walking well after the night had fallen; he wasn’t all too sure where he was, and the phone that he had gotten back from the woman behind the counter when he had been released didn’t have any battery on it at all, so he couldn’t tell the time. In a way, he guessed that that didn’t really bother him all that much. He also assumed that he should be worrying about a lot of things - where to sleep, what to eat, and how to get to do any of that when he didn’t have a single penny on him - but right now he was just really fucking happy to be far away from the old neighborhood, far away from everything and anything that he knew, and far away from anybody that made him feel that overwhelming sense of guilt in his stomach.

 

He would probably end up returning soon, but for right now this was where he needed to be - in the middle of nowhere. To his knowledge, at least; there was actually a city of some kind surrounding him, despite the fact that he didn’t know what the fuck it was called. It wasn’t too trashy, but it wasn’t some kind of northside either - something he felt extremely thankful for.

 

By now it was completely black around him, save for the few blinking streetlights, lighting parts of his way now and then. Mickey started to slow down a little bit; maybe because his leg were getting tired, or maybe because the cold was even starting to seep into the middle of his body at this point, despite the protective jacket he had on. His hands were staying clenched up into fists in his pockets, his palms just about the only part of his body that had somewhat of a warmer temperature. He couldn’t say the same for his fingers, nose or ears. Even his fucking dick was freezing, what the fuck.

 

A little while after eleven pm - by his estimations, at least, he had really no way of knowing what the time was - he was forced to admit his defeat and he started walking around town with the intention of finding somewhere he could crash for an hour or two. Even if it was just a stairwell or some shit that would keep him a tiny bit warmer for a little while. Mickey continued walking around for the better part of the next hour - walking in circles, he would assume - but then finally, after several tries, he ended up finding a large door that wasn’t locked, and it let him into a dark stairwell.

 

He couldn’t see all that much, but he could feel his heart rate immediately slowing down as he sat down on one of the lower steps, feeling himself finally being able to breathe, the freezing feeling ever so slowly sinking out of his body, being replaced with warmth - well, warmth compared to what he had been feeling for the past few hours, at least. Sleeping in a stairwell wasn’t that big of a deal to Mickey, honestly. He had done it with his brothers several times when they were on runs and shit.

 

A part of him wanted to take his jacket off and roll it up like a pillow, but he realized that if he did that, then he would pretty much immediately be freezing his ass off again - something he wasn’t all that willing to do when he finally had a chance to stop. So instead he sighed heavily, his eyes falling closed as he leaned his head back against the hard wall behind him, letting himself calm down. Wondering what the fuck he was actually doing with his life at this point.

 

  
***

 

  
_Mickey’s legs moved forwards faster than he had ever felt them before. His heart was completely banging against his ribcage; force enough that he was scared that the muscle might actually burst through the bones at some point, though right now he had much more important things to worry about. He didn’t give a fuck if he looked ridiculous; the need for Ian was a burning sword in his chest. The worry. He ran and he ran, as fast as his feet could possibly carry him, his throat tight. Finally, he made it._

 

_And there he was. Ian was sitting on the porch of the Gallagher house, looking as beautiful as ever. Mickey abruptly stopped his speed into nothing, turning to look at his boyfriend, his breathing heavy as he did his best to try to make it catch up with him. The ever so slight sun shone above them, and Mickey wracked his brain to come up with something - anything - that might be good to say right now. Ultimately, though;_

 

_“The fuck you been?” At Mickey’s words, Ian looked up, their eyes connecting from across the tiny Gallagher yard. Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his own dry lips, hoping that it would help with the dry feeling, even if just a little bit. He stayed silent as he waited for Ian’s answer._

 

_“With my mom” Was all he got, and it made Mickey’s throat close up even a little bit more in nervousness; he didn’t really know what to say to that. He knew all too well what a mess Ian’s mom could prove to be, despite the fact that he hadn’t really met her more than in passing. Ian stayed quiet after that, and Mickey willed his breathing to slow down even a little bit further as he searched for what to say next._

 

_“Yeah, you okay?” Was what he ended up coming up with. He didn’t know if it was the ‘right’ thing to say in that moment, but he sort of had to know. He didn’t really know what else to say. Ian had been such a fucking mess lately - that wasn’t his own fault, of course; he was sick, but it was the truth - and Mickey wasn’t really all too sure how to handle it anymore. Not after all of this._

 

_Ian placed his face into his palms for a moment, running them up and down, seemingly hoping that he would manage to wipe some sleep or tiredness from his brain._

 

_“No” Ian’s whispered word registered in Mickey’s brain, and before the older man really knew what was happening, he was standing up and walking over to him. That same sad, tired look in his eyes. Mickey’s heart started speeding up a little bit again, wondering what was happening. Wondering what he could possibly do to help. “Mick, I’m not okay. I’m fucking sick, okay?” A small tear escaped his eye as he got a little bit closer, Mickey tilting his head to the side, waiting for him to continue. “And I… I really need you. I love you so much. Mickey, I’m sorry”_

 

  
***

 

  
What woke Mickey up was the warm tear trailing down his cheek, a loud breath escaping his lips as his eyes opened and he realized that the dream had been just that - a dream. It wasn’t an unusual thing for him to dream about Ian Gallagher; he didn’t appear to him every night, but at least a few times a week by now. More and more as time went on, it seemed; despite how fucked up that sounded and how much he wished that it would be the other way around instead.

 

Sometimes they were about what Mickey wished would have happened; sometimes they were just a movie of what actually did happen, and sometimes they were so so much worse. But every single time they made Mickey cry. Cry for what they used to be and cry for what a fucking screw up he was. He cried for the fact that he hadn’t been able to save Ian; and he cried because Mickey had so badly wanted to be enough for the guy he loved. But he just hadn’t been able to be.

 

Soon, Mickey managed to shake the dream enough to take in his surroundings. The stairwell was bright again, the welcoming while somewhat dreary morning light slipping in through the glass door. He didn’t feel quite as cold anymore, and his legs were somewhat rested he assumed, so it was time to get up. Try to decide where he should go next. He still had no idea. He didn’t want to go home just yet - maybe that made him sound like a child or some shit, but it was the truth. Mickey just wasn’t all that ready to face it yet - Ian, Svetlana, Yevgeny, his brothers, Ian’s family, the old houses, Kev and Vee - all of it. He just wasn’t ready.

 

Mickey had spent the past year taking care of other people - whether he had been successful or not was another story. And now, he was making one decision that was selfish. He would keep walking in a direction that wasn’t home. He wouldn’t stay away from Chicago for the rest of his life, of course. A few days at most. He might have to sleep in a few stairwells and suffer the cold, but at the moment, maybe that was exactly what he needed. Some freedom - comforting or not.

 

Mickey took a deep breath, reaching his right hand up to his face, wiping away the one or two tears from his cold cheek before he pushed himself up and out the door, continuing to move his legs despite their screams from all they had done yesterday.

 

His hands slipped back into the pockets of his large jacket, and despite the fact that his stomach was screaming no less than the muscles in his legs by now, he didn’t stop to see if he could find somewhere to eat. Once it became critical he would eat; for now he actually wanted to keep walking. He sort of liked the feeling of having his legs move underneath his body, carrying him further and further away from anything he knew; all the things that made him feel like absolute shit.

 

  
***

 

  
So that’s what he did.

 

For the rest of the day, Mickey just walked. Once or twice he sat down on a bench for a few minutes, of course. He wasn’t a fucking athlete or some shit. But for the most part, he kept it up. He kept his chin deep into the collar of his jacket, his hands curled into fists in his pockets, and he walked; doing his best to think about absolutely nothing at all. He didn’t want to think about where he was going, or what Ian was doing or how Yevgeny was doing. None of it. He just couldn’t handle it all, not right now. He needed this. He needed a few days to himself after everything; a few days where he would just not give a fuck.

 

By the time night came around once again, he had by signs determined that he was all the way up in fucking Rockford of all places; he honestly didn’t think that he would make it that far. He was starting to regret it ever the slightest bit when he realized that he would have to somehow get himself all the way back again, but right now it was completely black once again, the throbbing cold slipping inside of his body and giving him flashbacks to last night. His hands were still curled up into fists inside of his pockets, his lips stinging in their chapped condition as he did his absolute best to find another stairwell to sleep in - or a fucking homeless shelter, he didn’t really give a shit at this point, because the cold was bothering him even more now than it had last night.

 

Every single door that he pulled was safely locked with either a code or a key, or both. After two hours of looking, he was forced to admit defeat, and he exhaustively leaned back against a stonewall, sinking down until he was sitting, his teeth starting to chatter as he pulled his legs up to his chest. Mickey’s entire body was shaking, the wind making a slight whooshing sound, blending together with the one of the train a bit away. He seemed to be somewhat still in town, since he could see the hint of store signs in some directions. It didn’t matter now, though. Surely the clock was ticking closer and closer to midnight, and the cold was growing more and more cruel, making Mickey close his eyes for a second, hoping that he could manage to shut some of his life out for a moment.

 

  
That was until he heard the steps walking over to him; he ignored it at first, of course. Nobody cared about some random and seemingly homeless person. Soon though; a thick australian accent reached Mickey’s ears, registering in his brain.

 

“Hey, are you gonna alright, mate?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie to you guys, I am terrified to be posting this. I have been planning it for such a long time, and gone back and forth between different plot bases and shit, but here it is. I have no idea what kind of response I'm going to get, but any comments and kudos are incredibly welcome. Except for pure hate comments of course, yall can save your time with those :)
> 
> As always, I'm wishing all of you guys the most amazing day <3


	2. Like Two Ships Passing in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey took a deep breath, some of it escaping the wall he had formed with his jacket collar, creating a cloud of smoke in front of his face. He got lost in the art for a moment, watching the way the transparent cloud behaved, prancing around for a second before finally disappearing into nothing. Just how Mickey felt.

Mickey’s gaze stayed focused onto his knees as he tugged them up even closer to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, his eyebrows knitting together as he did his absolute best to shut out the cold, trying to keep his jaw from flinching upwards and making that horrible sound. He didn’t answer at first; instead he let a few seconds pass, hoping that whoever the guy was, he would take the hint.

 

No matter how cold it was, he didn’t want any help, and he didn’t want to talk to anybody. That was the whole point of why he had gotten himself away from everything he knew in the first place - because he wanted to be by himself. The shadow blocking that one flickering streetlight didn’t move, though, so finally Mickey let a sigh escape his lips.

 

“‘M okay” He tightened his arms a little bit more around himself, hoping that this night would pass quickly and that the weather would become just a little bit warmer tomorrow. This almost had to be worse than it was down in Chicago; the wind just wouldn’t give up.

 

Mickey pushed his knees up even further against his chest, thinking that maybe it would shut some of the cold out and at least keep his dick, stomach and upper legs somewhat warmer. It didn’t. He didn’t have any gloves on, so his fingers were starting to go just a little bit more numb, exposed to the cold.

 

Fuck if he was letting go of himself to put them back into his pockets, though; he would rather lose the feel in his fingers than the feel in his entire body - more than he already had that was. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even close to the winter months just yet, Mickey couldn’t remember ever being this cold. Then again, he had never stayed outside in the wind for this long before. He and his brothers had always managed to find stairwells or abandoned cars to crash in whenever they had been on long runs in the past.

 

“Yeah?” A deep, annoyed - and somewhat shaky thanks to the wind blowing throughout his body - sigh escaped Mickey’s chapped lips as he waited for the guy to finally understand that he didn’t need his fucking concern. He still hadn’t looked up at the person, and frankly he wasn’t planning to. He just wanted to be left alone.

 

Mickey kept his gaze locked on the dark denim that was covering his knees, burrowing the bottom half of his face as deeply as he could in the collar of his jacket as he tightened his hold around himself even further, hoping that it would help, all the while knowing that it wouldn’t.

 

“Leave me alone, man. Told you I’m fucking fine” Mickey tried again; his voice dark and muffled by his jacket. At this point, not even the thick green clothing piece was doing much of a good job at keeping him from freezing his ass off. It crossed his mind to just get up and continue walking a little bit - maybe some movement would keep his body from turning completely numb - but ultimately, in this moment he didn’t trust his own body to get him very far. It was too gone already. Too cold. Too weak.

 

“Alright” The dark voice spoke, and within the next few seconds, Mickey registered the sound of heavy steps walking away from him, the shadow that had been above him disappearing as the ‘thud thud thud’ got quieter, the person getting further and further away from him.

 

Once Mickey couldn’t hear it anymore, he tugged his legs even a little bit closer up towards his body, tilting his neck a little bit forwards so that he could bury a bigger part of his face inside of the collar of his jacket, managing to cover almost all the way up to his eyebrows. It didn’t do much for heat, but it trapped Mickey’s breaths, warming up his lips and chin just a little bit - enough that he could close his eyes and do his best to get a few minutes of sleep, the sound of the howling wind and the bumping train following him deep into his slumber.

 

  
***

 

  
By the time Mickey started to awake out of his semi-peaceful sleep, he could tell that the morning light had arrived once again, relieving him of the dark and cold night - well, relieving him of the night, at least. His eyes stayed closed, but he could hear the train going in the distance, the wind just a tiny bit less cruel than before he had decided to let sleep take over his body.

 

His legs were still folded, knees pressed up against his chest, his hands now trapped in between his legs and upper body, keeping them somewhat usable and not completely immobilized. Mickey’s face was deeply buried in the collar of his jacket; his neck starting to ache a little bit at the unnatural position, but he had no plans of straightening it out any time soon.

 

At this point, he would easily take screaming muscles over feeling even more cold seeping into his body.

 

Mickey’s lips were stinging a little bit, and he would bet anything that if he were to try to smile, they would immediately start bleeding; that’s how fucking dry they were. The man was well aware of the fact that he should get up; he should start walking and preferably in a direction that would at some point get him back to Chicago, but the truth was that despite his suffering body; despite the howling wind; and despite the way in which his stomach was screaming at him in hunger - he didn’t want that. Not yet.

 

It was stupid. Mickey was an adult and he had responsibilities - he had a son, he had his brothers, maybe he even still had a job - but something told him that nobody back at home was missing him, or wondering when he was coming back. So what did it matter, right? The thought didn’t make Mickey feel depressed, really. It didn’t make him feel lonely in a sad way - yeah, he felt lonely, sure - but he wasn’t sure whether that was a bad thing at this point in his life. Maybe it even felt kind of… freeing? He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, the howling wind and shivering cold seemed to be taking a lot of his braincells with them.

 

Mickey slowly let his eyes drift open; but since he refused to take his face out of his jacket, he only saw the grey ground beneath him and not much more. He tried to find a way to determine what time it was, though there was no sun at all, so he couldn’t have one single indication. It was a really grey morning, though; either the daylight had just rose over the town, but it could just as well be the weather causing it, so it didn’t help him all that much.

 

Not that it mattered anyway - he had nowhere to be. Mickey also doubted that he would be able to summon up enough willpower to get up and keep walking today. After all that his legs had been through in the past couple of days, it wasn’t an exaggeration when he said that the muscles making them up were literally screaming and begging him for mercy and for rest.

 

The still very much cold and howling wind didn’t help much either. It all just made the man even more numb in every single part of his body. His skin, his muscles, is blood - he wouldn’t be very surprised if it was all nothing but ice at this point.

 

Within the next half hour or so, more and more sounds started registering inside of Mickey’s messy brain. People talking, cars starting up, phones ringing - the town was waking up and becoming ready to start its day. None of the sounds were all that close to him, though; thankfully. Because despite his few hours of sleep, his head was pounding with the lack of it.

 

Probably because sitting uncomfortably against a stone wall, your entire body shaking in the howling wind wasn’t what most people would consider having a good nights sleep.

 

The loud sound of a skateboard rolling along the sidewalk reached Mickey’s ears and he sighed deeply, burying his face even deeper in his jacket, hoping that the person would pass quickly so that he would be rid of the shaky sound of the old wheels that were just about making his entire brain vibrate painfully, making it pound even more.

 

The truth was that Mickey had never quite experienced a headache as bad as this one ever before - he had a feeling that it wasn’t just lack of sleep, but lack of food as well that was causing it. Either way, he just wanted it to go away. The skateboard rolled closer and closer to Mickey at what sounded like a pretty fast speed; he let his eyes drift closed, attempting to shut it out instead of letting it annoy him all too much. His hands were curled up into fists in the fold of his body, his knees shaking a few inches away from his chest.

 

As the skateboard was close enough to Mickey that the sound overpowered the one of the screeching train almost completely, he breathed out, assuming that it would roll past him and he would be rid of it.

 

That wasn’t what happened, though. Because the person felt the need to make a dead-stop right in front of Mickey. Mickey didn’t acknowledge it; he had wasted enough energy on the guy who had disturbed him last night, he didn’t need to bark at this clown too. Instead of looking up, or even opening his eyes, he buried his face even a little bit deeper in the collar of his jacket, sighing deeply as he stayed still and quiet, waiting for the skateboard to keep rolling.

 

Despite the situation he was in at this point in his life, the last thing he wanted was random strangers asking him if he was alright or not. Jesus fuck, why were they even stopping? Had this town never seen a homeless person before? It wasn’t that unusual and Mickey was completely fucking fine. Just dandy.

 

“Almost thought you would have frozen to death by now, no?” Mickey sighed. This wasn’t some new person, this was the guy from last night - not a lot of people with an australian accent walked around Illinois, not to mention how fucking deep his voice was.

 

Mickey could easily tell. The guy’s words weren’t all that meaningful or even kind at first listen, but somehow he could sense some kindness or softness to them - concern. Not that Mickey had any fucking clue why that was, he didn’t deserve it. All he wanted to do was to sit here and continue soaking in his bath of suffering and self-loathing.

 

“You stalking me now or some shit?” Mickey knew that it wasn’t all that fair to be rude to somebody who had done nothing really to deserve it - he wasn’t an asshole big enough that he couldn’t recognize when he was being one. But he didn’t know why someone would take time our of their day and waste on him - even if it was just a few seconds. No matter who the person was, Mickey didn’t deserve that.

 

“No” The simple, dark word came a beat or two after Mickey’s question had left his lips. “I’m going to class. My campus is this way, I just figured I’d see if you were alive. They say it’s going to become even colder soon” The guy spoke, mumbling and talking with speed, all the while somehow managing to pronounce every word perfectly.

 

Mickey kept his eyes shut, breathing heavily into his jacket, the somewhat hot air relieving his lips of the cold if even for half a second. He fought all he could to make sure that his teeth didn’t start chattering; he fucking hated that noise, the feeling. All he wanted right now was for this guy to leave him alone - for the entire world to leave him be.

 

“I’m fine” Was all he managed to speak; the words so muffled by his jacket that he wasn’t sure that the guy would be able to hear what he had said, not that he really cared. His nails dug deep into his palms, probably leaving those white half-moons as he kept his entire body tense, hoping that it would do a little something to shut out the cold - so far it wasn’t helping in the slightest. His lips still stung, and though he knew that it wasn’t possible, he quite honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the cold had glued his eyes together, making him unable to open them, should he ever want to again.

 

“Alright. Sorry I disturbed you, mate” With that, Mickey heard the sound of the loud wheels once again, the skateboard finally passing him and rolling further and further away. He forced himself to take another deep breath, clenching his fists even tighter together as he let his eyes slip open once again, feeling them ache a little bit, unused to the bright - though still incredibly dreary - morning light.

 

Mickey swallowed, lifting his head a little bit more, suffering through the cold wind fanning his lips for a moment, just so that he could rest his chin on his knees for a few seconds, feeling his neck thanking him at the slight position change.

 

Mickey’s gaze rested on the grey pavement ahead of him, and he found himself wondering how he had gotten here. Alone in the cold up in fucking Rockford of all places. Where the fuck had he gone wrong - really? Was it when he had tried to get back at Sammi for hurting the one person in the world that meant more to him than anything and anybody else?

 

Was it when he had let Ian become that person, or was it much, much earlier? Had Mickey just gone wrong the day that he had been born? That thought was too scary, too powerful and too alike a suicidal one - Mickey forced himself to shake it. He might be a miserable son of a bitch - he might even be a complete failure, but he would never let himself go that far. He didn’t want that. Not now and not ever.

 

Mickey sighed deeply, letting his eyes slip closed once again as he leaned his head back against the hard stone wall, putting his best efforts into trying to shut out the cold; the sounds of the howling wind and the screaming of the trains a bit away. If he was going to get through the next few hours of this, he couldn’t be doing it awake.

 

  
***

 

  
And Mickey slept. For a lot longer than he had intended to; he was finally rid of the cold, and the sadness and the self-loathing and the self-abuse. If only for a few hours. What finally made consciousness and reality start to crawl back into his body was the somewhat heavy ‘duns’ of somebody sitting down right next to him. At first, Mickey didn’t realize what the sound was.

 

His eyebrows knitted together a little bit in confusion, his eyes staying closed as sleep drifted further and further away, disappearing out of his body. He swallowed thickly, his eyes blinking open, the horribly cold weather sinking back into him, numbing his very being all the way into his bones.

 

Mickey sighed, his eyes slowly blinking open. The first thing that registered with him was the fact that he had surely slept a fuck of a lot longer than a few hours, because the streetlights were back on once again, the darkness surrounding the city like a warm - well, actually frighteningly cold - hug.

 

His knees were still tightly pressed up against his chest, and at some point in his time of unconsciousness, his head had fallen back down, the bottom half of his face buried in the collar of his jacket once again. His earlobes throbbed in the cold, and Mickey could tell that the wind had surely gotten colder and even more cruel in the hours that he hadn’t been awake with it.

 

It took Mickey probably almost an entire minute to wake up enough that he could acknowledge the person that was now sitting next to him; at first he had thought that it might be somebody else who didn’t have a home at the moment, but that didn’t make much sense for them to sit down right next to Mickey in that case. There was so much other space along the street. No. Mickey didn’t even need to hear the dark, accent coated voice to figure out who it was, yet;

 

“Go ahead - have some” The dark eyebrows over Mickey’s eyes knitted together a little bit in confusion, right before he turned his head to the right, just enough that he could look down at the ground separating him from the guy.

 

There was quite a bit of space in between them - at least he was that smart - Mickey had to admit that he appreciated that. That wasn’t the only thing he appreciated, despite his best efforts not to pay the guy any attention at all.

 

On the few feet of pavement separating the two men, sat a pizza. A steaming, delicious, large pepperoni pizza. Mickey hadn’t quite realized how fucking hungry he was until his eyes fell onto the food. Mickey’s neck was still screaming in pain from all of the uncomfortable positions he had been in in the past couple of days, the cold making his lips sting, his hands still very much clenched into fists. Just about every single part of his body was definitely suffering from his current life choices, but the way in which his stomach was begging to be fed had to be the worst part. Yet;

 

“I don’t need your fucking charity, man” Mickey said easily, the act of lying about his own well being a well practiced art by now. He forced his gaze away from the delicious food, pulling his legs even closer up towards his chest, winding his arms around himself, burying his face back into the collar of his cold jacket as he listened to the quiet - barely audible - sound of the guy chewing on the one slice that was missing from the box.

 

He didn’t say anything more to Mickey for a few minutes; instead he just stayed sitting there next to him, eating the food - probably knowing that Mickey’s stomach was begging more for every minute; it didn’t take a genius to figure out how hungry he had to be by now.

 

Mickey’s breathing was even, and though his mouth was against the inside of his jacket, some of it slipped out, creating some smoke right in front of him, the patterns capturing his attention for a second. He knew that it was childish - not to mention stupid - saying no to free food, especially in a situation like this one where Mickey truly needed some into his system.

 

It just made him a little bit uncomfortable accepting the help. Soon, the chewing stopped, the guy most likely swallowing the last bite of his slice; then Mickey heard the low scraping of the pizza box being pushed a little bit closer to him though he refused to look just yet.

 

“I think you do” Came the soft, lowly mumbled words. “Why don’t you go ahead and swallow your pride for a second or two, huh?” Mickey listened to the words, his teeth gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip as he considered, his eyes drifting back to the food next to him. He still didn’t know what his apparent helper looked like, but a few feet on the other side of the box, he could see his legs from the knee down.

 

Skinny, long things wrapped in a pair of tight black skinny jeans, tapering off into a pair of large Dr. Martens combat boots. Maybe the fact that the guy was even a fraction of a little bit like Mickey - meaning not dressed in a fucking suit or some shit - made him just a tiny bit more comfortable around the stranger.

 

Surprisingly - even to himself - Mickey swallowed and unwrapped his right arm from around his shaking body, reaching towards the box and lifting one of the slices up, bringing it to his mouth to take a bite. It wasn’t all that warm anymore, but after all of these days out in the cold without food in his system, it still tasted like absolute fucking heaven to Mickey.

 

The guy next to him - thankfully - seemed to be smart enough to keep his mouth shut as Mickey chewed, feeling his body thank him for finally giving in. Every single body part was still very much either aching or completely numb thanks to the howling, freezing wind, but the ache in his stomach was being a little bit soothed with every bite of food that he swallowed down.

 

Mickey kept his free left arm still wrapped around his folded legs, keeping his entire being curled up to keep the very last bit of heat from escaping his system; maybe it wasn’t actually helping physically all that much, but it helped somewhat mentally to think that he could possibly be even colder than this though he knew that that was just about an impossibility at this point.

 

Had he not been chewing on the slice of pizza, the sound of his teeth chattering would surely have been out in the air by now. He registered the movement in his peripheral vision as the guy getting another slice, and Mickey pushed his pride even further to the side, getting a second one for himself as well, his gaze forwards as he bit into it. He wasn’t all that sure why, but he just didn’t feel like looking at the guy.

 

Maybe because this was the most vulnerable that Mickey had felt in just about his entire life, and he didn’t want to see the face of the person who was seeing him like this. Mickey was supposed to be strong, and brave and all of that shit. He was a Milkovich. He was supposed to be everything that he wasn’t right now.

 

“You know, back when my dad died…” The guy’s voice registered with Mickey once again, and he had to say that he didn’t mind it all that much right now.

 

His voice was so dark and he spoke with such a mumbling, thick accent - it was different from all the similar voices that Mickey was so used to back where he had grown up. He didn’t really have a better way to describe this guy’s voice than soothing. It sounded really smooth and soothing, to the point where Mickey didn’t really care about the words, he just liked the sound. Much like the sound of the whooshing train in the distance calmed him down a little bit, made him feel better. It was all white noise that interestingly enough made Mickey feel a little bit better, if only for a few seconds.

 

“My mum didn’t know how to cook” The guy continued talking to Mickey; he had paused for a few seconds in between the parts of the sentence, almost as if he was giving Mickey an opportunity to tell him to shut up - maybe that was the very reason why he chose not to. “We lived off of cheese pizza for all of an entire year”

 

The guy paused to take another bite of the slice in his hand, and for some reason Mickey found himself listening as he spoke; he didn’t care about what he had gone through in the past, or whatever worthless memories he apparently felt like sharing - nor did Mickey care about this guy as a person, really. Fuck, he didn’t even know what he looked like. But he had to admit that it was kind of him to buy him food, not to mention how nice his voice sounded - so no - Mickey didn’t at all mind listening to him for a bit.

 

“We didn’t have a lot of money, though, you know? So she used to buy from the cheapest place and then she would end up adding all these different things on top herself - like olives and other cheeses from the store, I don’t know” The guy trailed off into a thick sounding chuckle.

 

“Sounds fucking disgusting” Mickey answered without thinking much about it; his second slice of pizza was since long swallowed down and he had his mouth buried in the collar of his jacket once again, shielding his face from the quickly increasing cold weather. It was a good thing, too because Mickey wouldn’t really like the guy to see the amused smile that was appearing on his face - well, smile might be quite the exaggeration, but his lips were no longer pressing into a thin line, at least.

 

He had virtually no idea why he felt somewhat comfortable talking to this guy, maybe it was because he wasn’t acting as if they were complete strangers at all. This guy was talking to him without actually talking about much of anything, and in some kind of way Mickey guessed that he appreciated it - or he could deal with it, at least. It was fine.

 

“No, a lot of the time, it was actually pretty good” The dark voice next to Mickey stated with another small sound somewhere in between a sigh and a chuckle. Mickey curled his hands back into fists, feeling the wind start to pick up some more force, making him bury his face a little bit deeper in the collar of his jacket, hoping that this fucking weather would calm down some day soon so that he would be able to get himself back to Chicago. In this weather he was pretty much trapped. It was just too cold to make it on foot.

 

Neither of them said anything more for quite a while after that; Mickey wrapped his arms around his body, feeling the cold sink back into his bones now that he didn’t have much else to focus on anymore.

 

The whooshing of the wind blended together with the bumpy sound of the train rolling along the rails somewhere close - Mickey hadn’t seen the train or the rails walking into town, but after being here for quite a while he had come to realize that the sound never really disappeared.

 

Probably because there were several trains around, rolling into or around town every ten minutes or so. He had to admit that it sounded incredibly calming; before today he had never realized how the constant sounds like the wind, the train or the cars could help him relax, but spending an entire day sitting against a building doing nothing there wasn’t really all that much else to focus on.

 

Mickey took a deep breath, some of it escaping the wall he had formed with his jacket collar, creating a cloud of smoke in front of his face. He got lost in the art for a moment, watching the way the transparent cloud behaved, prancing around for a second before finally disappearing into nothing. Just how Mickey felt.

 

“It’s freezing, mate. I better get home” The guy spoke in his thick, australian laced voice. In his peripheral vision, Mickey saw him fold his long legs together, standing up again. Mickey tilted his neck a little bit more downwards, burying his face even further into his jacket, sighing at the cold surrounding him, his teeth once again pretty fucking damn near to full on chattering. He had assumed that the guy was just going to stand up and start walking back to wherever ‘home’ was, but a minute later, Mickey realized that his shadow was blocking the streetlight once again. He furrowed his eyebrows, lifting his head up, braving the cold for a first look at the guy.

 

Mickey couldn’t quite determine his height since he was sitting down himself, but the guy had to be pretty fucking tall from his estimations, because he had to tilt his head quite far back to look at his face.

 

Since it was dark outside, and Mickey’s only source of light was the flickering streetlights a few meters away, he couldn’t see him all that well. All he bothered to register was the fact that his eyes were filled with something that Mickey hadn’t seen in somebody’s eyes in a long time. Kindness. Purely, that was.

 

He looked kind. That was Mickey’s first thought; then thanks to the direction in which one of the streetlights fell, he noticed that his hair was dyed an incredibly bright blue color, teased and styled in a way that probably made it taller than the height of his actual head. Mickey also vaguely registered the fact that except for his face, any patch of skin that he could see - which wasn’t a lot, of course; since it was quite literally cold enough outside that somebody could freeze to death - was seemingly covered in tattoos.

 

Mickey’s thick black eyebrows stayed furrowed, silently asking the guy what he wanted; why he wasn’t leaving and walking back to his warm home. After a few seconds, the guy lifted his shoulders a little bit into some kind of a shrug.

 

“Look…” He spoke, looking down at Mickey, sliding his hands down into the front pockets of his jeans, suddenly seeming a little bit more serious than he had a few minutes ago. “I don’t know you at all, but my apartment’s only a few blocks away. You want to have my couch tonight?”

 

To say Mickey was surprised by the offer was an understatement at best. His frown deepened a little bit as he sighed, the eye contact in between them keeping for a bit longer. Though obviously a kind suggestion, Mickey wasn’t all too sure what he thought about it, to be honest. Going back to some guys apartment didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would want to do right now - not because he thought this guy wanted anything to happen or some stupid shit like that, but just because Mickey currently felt like a burden enough.

 

The half eaten pizza was still resting next to him, and it was clear that the guy had no intentions of bringing it with him. He had done enough for Mickey, he didn’t need to have his ass sleeping on his couch as well.

 

“I’m alright, man. You go” He spoke finally, breaking the eye contact and curling up even a little bit more, burrowing his face deep down into the collar of his jacket.

 

“Are you sure about that, mate?” The guy asked thickly, and Mickey noticed that the wind was starting to pick up even more force, his toes and his hands growing even more numb by the second, even starting to burn just a little bit. Mickey swallowed; and without lifting his face out of his jacket, he looked up, meeting the eyes that were still looking down at him.

 

There was nothing scary in them, nothing desperate - all Mickey could see was concern and kindness. He hadn’t seen that in somebody’s eyes in a long fucking time, and by now the howling wind was starting to overpower the sound of the train, the storm just about blowing Mickey’s fucking body with it. So ultimately - he didn’t have all that much of a choice.

 

“Alright, man. Let’s go”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a day or two, I was actually feeling really bad about this fic, and most of you who follow me on tumblr probably know this. I don't know, I just felt as if it wasn't good enough or whatever. It's still doesn't have quite the right feel to it as I had imagined from the beginning, but I'm going with it. There are so so so many things that are going to happen before this is completed, and hopefully somewhere along the way I will be happy with it. I have to admit that I will feel more comfortable writing this when I get a little bit further into the plot, because that's where I've planned the most, you know? 
> 
> Oh well, either way I do hope that there's at least one or two of you out there who are excited about where this fic is going! Comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated, especially on new fics like this because I'm always a little bit insecure about them. 
> 
> I'm sending all my love to every single one of you <3


	3. And Life is Like a Pipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Back when I was out there…” The guy continued then. Once again, Mickey found himself not too much minding listening to this guy talk. He had never really heard a voice like it before. Not in person. Maybe it was strange that he could like the simple sound of somebody’s voice so much, but he guessed that it was only because this guy sounded different than most of the assholes he had been around pretty much everyday growing up. “No matter how many times I told people to rack off, I could have needed some help, yeah?”

The guy turned to the right and started walking, Mickey followed him all the while making sure to stay a step or two behind. It had been established that this guy was the talk-active type; at least to some degree - and while Mickey didn’t hate listening to the dark voice, talking had never been one of his favorite activities. Especially not talking to strangers; even ones who quite possibly were saving his life.

 

His body still felt incredibly weak, numbed by the wind and the biting cold; so much so that he was amazed that he was actually standing and walking. His face and ears weren’t just numb, but actually stinging in pain, and though sleeping on some random guy’s couch had been far from his first choice, he had to admit that in this moment he was extremely thankful that this was how things had ended up working out. At least tonight.

 

Mickey’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, hands pulled into the sleeves on his jacket in an attempt to keep himself even a little bit warmer. The guy continued walking and never looked back to see if he was following; Mickey was also thankful that while talk-active, this guy at least seemed to be smart enough to keep his mouth shut once in a while. His head was tilted a little bit downwards, continuing to hide the bottom part of his face down into his jacket, his eyes on the back of the guy’s large, black boots to make sure that he was walking in the right direction.

 

The wind continued blowing around them harshly, the sound of the train bumping somewhere in the distance; Mickey still hadn’t bothered to look around and try to figure out exactly where it was coming through from. He swallowed thickly, hoping that he would be able to get a few hours of sleep tonight, then maybe he would be able to try to get his ass back to Chicago in the morning. Maybe, that was.

 

He wasn’t sure if he would have the strength to get back out onto the street by then, but he needed to get back somehow. Svetlana had surely found out that he was released by now, and if so then she probably wondered where he was. Why he wasn’t coming back to help pay the rent and shit. Then again… maybe she just didn’t give a fuck. Just like nobody else seemed to either.

 

Mickey swallowed, lifting his head a little bit as he continued trailing after the man who’s name he still hadn’t found out. He hadn’t really looked at him after he had stood up, but now he realized that even though he was a meter or two behind this guy, he had to stretch his neck just a little bit upwards to look at the back of his head. He wasn’t just a little bit taller than Mickey, he was just about a giant or something.

 

The shock blue hair was teased and manipulated almost to the point where it looked like it had the texture of cotton candy, the harsh wind moving it around a little bit from side to side. Mickey didn’t know why the fuck he was doing this, but as the temperature seemed to sink even a little bit further, the wind picking up some more force, he realized that he couldn’t recall being more thankful for anything in his entire life - even though he wasn’t all that comfortable showing it to someone he didn’t know jack about.

 

Mickey clenched his fists just a little bit tighter, hoping to warm them some more right as he noticed the guy take a turn, opening one of the large doors of a rundown red brick building. From what Mickey could see, it looked very old and dirty, a few of the windows shattered. It wasn’t to the point where it was insane for it to be an apartment building, but whatever this guy’s apartment looked like, it probably wasn’t all too insane that Mickey would be able to afford something like it on his own. That made him just a little bit more comfortable, because if this guy had been rich or some shit - living in a building that cost millions upon millions - Mickey would have felt so fucking out of place he probably wouldn’t even have followed him up.

 

The guy turned his body a little bit to the side, holding the large door open for Mickey, who passed him without looking up. He had never really been all too sure about how to act around people he didn’t know, and usually he became somewhat aggressive because of it, but that obviously wasn’t an option here. Not after everything this guy was doing for him - for some fucked up reason. So instead Mickey kept his mouth shut.

 

The guy let the door close behind them, and then he passed Mickey, continuing to walk into the building and then up into the stairwell, the shorter man proceeding to follow. For some reason, this whole thing didn’t feel half as awkward as it should, though - sure, it was strange, they didn’t know each other’s names and this guy was allowing Mickey to crash on his couch. However, it wasn’t… awkward in the definition of the word. They just didn’t have anything to talk about because they obviously didn’t know each other at all.

 

The guy’s heavy steps echoed throughout the dark stairwell as he stepped onto the stone floor, the sound of Mickey’s own boots hitting it joining into the echo. Though they weren’t even inside of the guy’s apartment yet, Mickey immediately felt his body relax ever so slightly at being inside of a building again.

 

Walls surrounding him, shutting out a little bit of the cold that had been sinking deeper and deeper inside of his body for the past few days, completely taking over him. Though he had no clue as to why this guy - or anybody, for that matter - would ever be kind enough to take someone like Mickey in, even for one single night, words would most likely never express how thankful he was for it right now. One more night out on the street, and Mickey wouldn’t only have been freezing his ass off; it was quite possible that his body wouldn’t have been able to handle it at all.

 

Mickey felt as if he followed the guy up staircase after staircase, their steps starting to form some kind of a mantra or a melody inside of his head before finally, the guy stopped surely a few sets of stairs from the very top floor. He walked up to one of the dark wooden doors and fished a key out of his pocket, unlocking it. Mickey buried his chin in his jacket, clenching his fists inside of his pockets just a little bit tighter, feeling his toes regain some of their sensation as the guy opened the other two locks on the door, above and underneath the main one - it was probably a smart thing to have several, this neighborhood didn’t seem like the safest place to be in town.

 

“There you go” The guy’s dark, yet gentle voice reached Mickey’s ears right as he pulled the door open easily enough, walking inside and keeping it open for the shorter man to join him inside. Mickey’s head moved ever so slightly up and down in a silent ‘Thank you’ as he moved his legs, taking the few steps inside of the warm apartment, pulling the door closed behind himself. “I’m gonna go get you a pillow, ‘right?” He spoke then, toeing his combat boots off and kicking them slightly to the side. “You can make yourself at home or whatever” Then he was gone, walking further into the apartment, leaving Mickey to do just that. Something as simple as adding ‘or whatever’ at the end of a sentence, it was something Mickey or his brothers would do, and it made him feel just a little bit more comfortable. At least for now.

 

Mickey toed his shoes off, and after a few seconds of debating whether or not he could make due without it just yet, he also unzipped his jacket, hanging it up on one of the hooks where the guy had hung his thin leather jacket. How the fuck he hadn’t been the one feeling as if he was going to freeze to death in this weather, Mickey didn’t know - then again, he probably hadn’t spent several days on a street corner. Afterwards, Mickey took a deep breath and stood still for a few seconds, simply letting himself enjoy the fact that he was inside of a building again; he hadn’t really let himself realize what a crappy situation he had been in before just now.

 

Mickey took a few steps inside of the apartment, and realized that they must be even closer to the train now than he had been on that street, because he could hear it somewhere in the distance despite the fact that he couldn’t see any windows opened or anything else that would allow the sound to enter easily. The apartment was actually quite nice; it didn’t look expensive or anything like that, but fully livable - were Mickey to guess, he would say that it hadn’t been meant to be an apartment to begin with. Because the floors along with the walls were all made out of distressed cement, almost as if it were a basement or a garage. It had a little bit of that feeling to it as well, but now in a creepy way. More like a cool way.

 

A few steps past the doorway, and he was staring right into a livingroom, a pretty large and nice grey woven couch placed against one of the longer walls, a big television standing opposite of it, leaving quite a bit of space in between which the sun surely would have filled nicely, had it been the day time right now. But it wasn’t, so the large window placed in through the shorter wall opposite of where Mickey was standing, wasn’t to much use at this very moment.

 

There was a small table next to the couch that kept a lamp on top, the small and simple item lighting the room up just a little bit. A surely soft rug was covering a part of the flat cement in front of the couch, the black color defiantly fitting in with the look of the rest of this place, as did the rectangular, metal coffee table that was standing on top of it. If a north side jackass were to walk into this place, chances were he would call it trashy, but Mickey kind of loved it so far. It was run down, but it was clean and completely livable - quite close to the kind of place that he could imagine himself having someday. Maybe.

 

Mickey took a deep breath, feeling his body start to defrost just a little bit more with every minute that passed. His arms were crossed over his chest again as he waited for the guy to come back out into the main area of the apartment. He had taken a few more steps to get further inside, and now he turned around, deciding to look just a little bit more.

 

As Mickey was standing in the middle of the livingroom, back turned towards the large window, he could see the kitchen. It wasn’t really all that fancy at all - just like the livingroom, the base part of it was made out of cement. There wasn’t a door to enter, it was more as if they had removed a part of the wall from ceiling to floor so that you could walk in there, the vertical wall the only thing separating the kitchen from the tiny hall where you entered the apartment. The wall continued on the other side of the little doorway, and the kitchen would have been completely shield from Mickey’s vision if it wasn’t for the rectangular part of it that was cut out, with the few chairs placed along it, it almost looked like some kind of a bar counter.

 

“Here” Mickey was drawn out of his own head by the guy’s voice as he exited the door next to the couch, placing a blanket along with a pillow on the armrest before taking a few steps closer and handing Mickey something else that was folded together. Mickey looked up at him for a second as he frowned, accepting the item into his hands. “It’s just one of my sweatshirts, figured you might want to borrow it. It gets pretty cold ‘round here, especially in the morning” The guy explained, and Mickey nodded a little bit, grateful as he kept his fingers curled around the soft square, letting his arm drop to his side. The guy walked away again, making his way out into the kitchen and lifting up the cold pizza box, walking around the thick cement wall to reach the refrigerator.

 

For the first time Mickey could actually look at him - it had been so dark outside that he had just been able to make out the overall looks of the man. He was quite a bit away from Mickey, and he was thankful that he seemed to know enough to give Mickey his own space, not be too close and not pay him more attention that what was really necessary. That was exactly what Mickey needed to feel comfortable. As if he was crashing at a friend’s house despite the fact that they weren’t and never would be.

 

Mickey continued looking at the guy as he moved around; for no real reason other than to try and figure him out just a little bit more. The hair on top of his head was a color that Mickey had first perceived as blue, but now it looked more green - maybe it was something in between, it didn’t really matter. He was unnaturally tall - probably around six foot six or maybe even more than that - and though his upper body was completely covered by an over-sized black henley, it was quite obvious that he had a frame that was a lot thinner than what was healthy for a man his age and height.

 

The guy continued moving around the kitchen, placing things into the fridge; leftovers since breakfast or something similar would be Mickey’s guess. He caught sight of a large black hoop sitting on the side of his left nostril, the piercing accompanied by the two small studs underneath his bottom lip making for snakebites. Any and all skin that was visible was covered by ink, but Mickey didn’t care enough to actually look at the shapes or what it made up; as the guy straightened up and entered the livingroom again, arms comfortably crossed over his chest, the shorter man also noticed that he had a vast amount of metal rings covering pretty much every single one of his fingers, along with a large collection of hemp and leather bracelets wrapped around the lower part of his tattooed forearms.

 

Mickey registered all of this within a few seconds, of course - and he didn’t really care all that much because it wasn’t as if he was going to become friends with this guy, or even see him again. That fact aside, he just had to ask.

 

“Hey, um… Man, why are you doing this?” Mickey spoke his question, eyebrows slightly knitted together as he looked up at the guy, doing his best to figure out what exactly his angle was, why he was wasting his time on somebody like Mickey - even if it was just something as simple and seemingly effortless as letting him crash on his couch or bringing him a pizza. “I mean, do you just…” Mickey continued after a few seconds, walking close enough to the couch that he could place the folded up sweatshirt on top of the pillow and then cross his arms, bringing his attention back to the stranger ahead of him. “You just fucking offer up your couch to any random homeless guys you might come across or whatever?”

 

The words made the corners of the guy’s mouth pull upwards a little bit in amusement, his thin fingers digging into the black fabric covering his upper arms as he lifted his shoulder a little bit into some kind of a slow paced shrug where he stood halfway across the room, looking at Mickey. He shook his head a little bit, and Mickey stayed quiet, waiting for a serious answer.

 

“No. To me you’re not just some random homeless guy” Mickey knitted his eyebrows together into a heavy frown as he quite obviously needed and expected some kind of elaboration. Thankfully, the guy gave it to him. “Your um… Your attitude, the way you were shaking, and the way you didn’t want me to help you…” He trailed off, letting his long, skinny arms drop to his sides as he looked into Mickey’s eyes from across the room, the shorter man trying desperately to put the pieces together inside of his messy brain. “You’re me” The lines in between Mickey’s eyebrows immediately flattened out at the words, most of the past few hours finally making some sort of sense. “Back when I was out there…” The guy continued then. Once again, Mickey found himself not too much minding listening to this guy talk. He had never really heard a voice like it before. Not in person. Maybe it was strange that he could like the simple sound of somebody’s voice so much, but he guessed that it was only because this guy sounded different than most of the assholes he had been around pretty much everyday growing up. “No matter how many times I told people to rack off, I could have needed some help, yeah?”

 

The frown was back on Mickey’s face, only this wasn’t one of confusion. This was one of understanding. He understood this guy now. Somewhat at least. The guy looked at Mickey for another second, giving him another kind and somewhat comforting smile before he turned around, starting to walk towards the door that Mickey could only assume lead to his bedroom.

 

“Hey, man…” Mickey called him back; the large ink and metal covered hand wrapped around the doorframe as the guy turned back around, waiting for the shorter man to speak. Mickey swallowed, looking at him as he gathered up the courage, looking down at the couch for a second before lifting his gaze back up. “Thank you” It probably wasn’t nearly enough, but Mickey couldn’t really think of any other words right now. He was too overwhelmed. And still too fucking freezing, fuck, his body didn’t really seem to completely grasp the fact that he was inside now. Part of his toes were still numb. He stayed quiet for a beat or two, looking at the guy. Soon enough, he caught onto Mickey’s silent question.

 

“It’s Jayme” The guy stated, that small and casual smile still resting upon his lips.

 

“‘M Mickey” Mickey mumbled, lifting his right hand up to his mouth, thumbing his bottom lip, gaze fixed onto the black rug beneath his feet for a moment before he lifted his head back up, noticing that Jayme was still standing in the doorway.

 

“See you in the morning, Mickey, yeah?” With that, he turned around and pulled the thin white door with him as he made his way into the room, leaving Mickey alone in the rest of the apartment to breathe out a little bit.

 

For a complete stranger, he actually felt oddly comfortable around Jayme, he had to admit; but it still felt good to know that he would have the next few hours to himself to think things over. And to get some sleep. Mickey desperately needed to get some sleep. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and he looked down onto the couch where the three items were placed - a blanket, a pillow and Jayme’s sweatshirt. Of course it crossed Mickey’s mind to just say fuck it and put the shirt to the side, deciding that he would be fine without it.

 

But ultimately, on his upper body, the only thing covering him was his thin black v neck, and Mickey knew that he would start freezing eventually. So after only a second or two of hesitation, he picked up the bleach-washed purple shirt, tugging it over his own head and forcing himself not to have much of a second thought about it. Despite Jayme’s skinny frame, the piece of clothing was actually quite large on Mickey’s body - probably thanks to the fact that he was quite a bit shorter.

 

It ended a little bit below his ass, and it crossed his mind to take his pants off just to be able to sleep a little bit more comfortably. He knew that his body needed all the heat it could get right now, though, so he kept them on and he quickly put the pillow against the armrest of the couch, unfolding the thick, dark grey blanket as he laid down, feeling as if his very being sighed in relief at the feeling of being able to do this. Just lay down on something soft and feel somewhat safe. He hadn’t had that in months and months, it felt like. Not since he had been able to sleep in his own bed back in the Milkovich house. Or in Ian’s.

 

Mickey stayed laying on his back as he let his eyes fall closed. Ian. Of course. Of course Ian would pop into his mind right as he was trying to go to sleep. He hadn’t thought about Ian in hours, and to be honest, that was probably the longest he had gone without doing so in months. And lately, each time he thought about that red hair, and that smile - everything they had been through together… well… to be honest, all he felt was pain. And guilt. He felt really fucking guilty.

 

The truth was that if Mickey had been a better man, and if he had done even more to help Ian, then Ian would be just fine. They would be together, and Ian would still be in love with him. But that wasn’t the case. Mickey hadn’t done more, and they weren’t together. Which made Mickey a failure. That word still echoed inside of his head, even now. They could have been good. But instead, Ian was back home doing god-knows-fucking-what and Mickey was here in fucking middle of nowhere Rockford, sleeping on some stranger’s couch.

 

Ten points to fucking no one.

 

A deep sigh escaped Mickey’s lips and he flipped over onto his right side, facing the wall as he kept his eyes shut, his hands balled up into fists far into the sweatshirt since the sleeves were way too long on him. With his face pressed against the fabric, he willed himself to calm down. Doing everything that he could to try to get a few hours of sleep. If only to escape his life for a bit.

 

  
***

 

  
As supposed to what Mickey was used to by now, what woke him up the next morning wasn’t anything. It wasn’t noise and it wasn’t screaming, it wasn’t traffic and it wasn’t someone yelling at him to get up. No, Mickey woke up because he had had enough sleep and he felt truly rested.

 

Maybe most people would feel like shit after spending a night on a couch, but after all of those weeks spent in his cell, and then a few days out on the street, to Mickey’s back it could just as well be a five star hotel. He was laying on his back again, his right arm folded over his eyes, a good few inches of the sweatshirt left after his hand ended inside of the sleeve. Just as he had suspected, now in the daylight, the livingroom was bright thanks to the morning sun shining in through the large window right across from where Mickey was laying, the blanket still pulled up to his waist.

 

As he slowly started to fully pull himself out of the deep sleep, he realized that he would be lying if he said that he felt happy. He still had all of this shit going on in his life that he needed to sort out, and he wasn’t even all that sure where he would start. But he also would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t feel a little bit better. A few hours of sleep on a couch in a warm apartment had apparently helped quite a bit.

 

A semi-deep, comfortable sigh escaped Mickey’s parted lips as he ran a flat, sweater-covered palm over his face, attempting to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes as he eased himself up to sit, turning his body so that he had his feet planted onto the rug beneath the couch.

 

“Morning” It took Mickey’s hazey brain half a second or so to register where the husky greeting was coming from, but he soon turned his head, finding Jayme sitting by the round, tiny kitchen table that was placed a few meters away from the bar counter, somewhere in the middle of the blurry line between kitchen and livingroom. He wasn’t looking at Mickey, instead his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, gaze focused onto his computer screen as he scrolled, typing a word now and again, a half eaten sandwich on a plate next to him. This all felt oddly… normal. As if Mickey was really waking up at a friend’s house.

 

“Time’s it?” He wondered as he willed his body to wake up a little bit further; he wasn’t all too sure if he would be able to must up the willpower to try to walk all the way back to Chicago today, honestly. Maybe he would stay in Rockford for a little bit longer, maybe find some money and a cheap motel somehow. Even after all of these hours spent in the cold, Mickey doubted that he was ready to face home just yet. He wasn’t ready to face Lana or his brothers - and he certainly hadn’t prepared for the possibility of running into Ian again. No. Mickey just wasn’t ready.

 

“Almost ten” Came Jayme’s response after a few seconds had ticked by, his voice still sounding as if he was very much distracted by whatever he was doing on the computer. His hair was no longer styled and manipulated into that whole cotton-candy type thing, instead it looked wavy very much slept on, about half of it tied up into a small bun on top of his head. Though it looked as if he had tied it all up to begin with, some of it just wasn’t long enough to stay, so a lot of strands had fallen down at the back of his neck and the sides of his head. A large black hoodie was pulled over his upper body, and he had one of his hands curled underneath his chin, no rings or bracelets in sight, just the tattoos that Mickey couldn’t make out from his spot on the couch, and quite honestly didn’t care enough to try. “There’s coffee if you want it. I’m sure there’s some breakfast in the fridge”

 

Mickey nodded - mostly to himself since Jayme was obviously still very preoccupied with his work. He left the blanket and pillow on the couch for now as he walked past the taller man, noticing that there was a notebook resting next to him on the table, littered with letters and numbers that Mickey didn’t bother to make out one by one - and probably wouldn’t understand even if he did bother. All he took from it was that Jayme was doing some kind of work for school, and then he continued to walk by him into the kitchen. He found an empty coffee cup next to the small maker, and he poured some of the black liquid into it before turning back around, deciding that there was no harm in sitting down by the table as well.

 

Mickey pulled one of the old, wooden chairs out and did just that as he took a large gulp of the coffee in his hand, feeling it spread throughout his body like some kind of well-needed drug, some more energy being returned to him. He sat in his own thoughts for a second, staring down into the black liquid as he drifted in and out of the room. Jayme didn’t say anything for a minute or two, instead he stayed focused on the computer, typing and writing, looking as if he was trying to figure something out.

 

“Sorry” He said after a short while, letting go of the pen in his hand and folding the black, old laptop closed about halfway as he looked up at Mickey, who just raised his eyebrows, wondering why the fuck he was apologizing. “There’s just a lot to do in class right now” He spoke then, and Mickey moved his head up and down a few times, assuring Jayme that he understood as he took the next gulp of his coffee. “I would actually need to go into class for a couple of hours”

 

“A’ight, man” Mickey said, drinking some more of the coffee before placing the cup back down onto the kitchen table and standing up, starting to walk back towards the couch. “I’ll get out of your hair” Jayme had done so fucking much for him in the past few hours, the least he could do was be out of here as soon as possible and spare him any more bother.

 

“Nah, no” Jayme’s protest made Mickey raise his eyebrows in confusion as he turned around to face the taller man. He was now standing up next to the table, a few of the blue strands falling in front of his face as he folded his laptop and notebook together, lifting both items up before he took a few steps forwards. “Where are you going to go then?” At that question, Mickey stayed quiet, lifting his right hand up to thumb his bottom lip. They both knew the answer.

 

“I’ll find somewhere, alright?” Mickey assured Jayme, shrugging a little bit. “You’ve done enough” He spoke the truth, and they both knew that too. Alas, Jayme didn’t seem too happy with that solution.

 

“Mickey, we don’t have to talk about why you’re in this situation. We don’t have to talk. But for as long as you need it, you can bunk here, ‘right?” Mickey’s brows furrowed a little bit at the simple statements. Jayme’s dark words were spoken so quickly that it took his brain half a second or so to register them, but when he did, all he could say was;

 

“Are you serious, man?”

 

“Told you I’ve been there, yeah?” Jayme just said, that small and kind smile still etched onto his lips as he looked at Mickey. “Don’t worry about it” With those words, he walked into his bedroom again, leaving Mickey to sink down onto the couch behind him, eyebrows still knitted together.

 

Mickey stayed sitting there for the next five minutes or so; until Jayme entered the livingroom again. He was a lot more dressed now, his long legs covered in a pair of grey skinny jeans, a white v neck hanging off of his shoulders. His fingers were once again covered by the metal rings, his wrists drowning in bracelets. The hairtie was pulled out of the hair, but it still wasn’t styled at all; it was all hanging down in bright blue, wavy and unbrushed strands. A large - and seemingly heavy - black bag hung over his shoulder, looking as if it was completely stuffed full of books and shit.

 

“You’re gonna be here all day, right?” Jayme asked, tugging Mickey out of his messy brain. The blue eyes focused onto the tall man right as he dropped the bag to the floor, pulling his leather jacket off of the hook and putting it on along with a black beanie to cover the back of his head.

 

“That alright with you?” Mickey asked; he honestly couldn’t see himself going back out into that cold any time soon. If being inside of this apartment for the entire day was a possibility, then yes - fuck, yes that’s what he was doing after all of those hours spent out on that street.

 

“Yeah, yeah” Jayme assured him, lifting the heavy bag back up onto his shoulder, a small sigh leaving his lips at the weight of it. “I’ll bring something to eat on my way back” He said then, unzipping his back and seemingly looking through it to make sure that he had everything with him.

 

“Cool” Mickey nodded a little bit.

 

“See you later, then” Jayme looked back up as he took a few steps backwards towards the door, getting ready to leave and go to class.

 

“See you, man” Mickey said, and then he heard the chain being undone along with the door opening up and then closing, leaving him alone in the apartment for the day.

 

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stayed seated onto the couch in the sunlit livingroom. The truth was that he didn’t really know what the fuck he had done to get himself here - how he had failed Ian, how he had managed to get himself locked up in prison.

 

Mickey swallowed, looking down at the light purple, bleached fabric covering his hand. And he didn’t know what the fuck he had done to deserve a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on having this up today, but things happen I guess. And things are happening, so... I hope some of you are sticking with this so far, feel free to leave me some comments or messages on my tumblr, 'cause I'm very lonely (Whoever knows where that's from, by the way - I fucking love you). And I'm wishing every single one of you an amazing day!
> 
> [This is the sweatshirt in question by the way](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/post/143391595830)


	4. It's Not Just My Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jayme was kind of cool just judging from the small amount of time that Mickey had spent with him so far. He could have ended up bunking with somebody who was a lot worse.

Mickey stayed seated for quite a while, staring down at the bleached sweatshirt material, his mind drifting in and out.

 

The truth was that he wasn’t all too sure how to do this, or how to handle it - handle any of it. For the first time in his entire life, Mickey was on his own. Away from Chicago, away from the south side, away from his brothers, and away from Ian - away from anything and everything that he had ever known and grown comfortable with as he had grown up into the person that he was today.

 

Since Jayme had promised Mickey that he could stay for as long as he wanted to, Mickey was seriously starting to re-consider going back to Chicago in the next few days. Sure, he wouldn’t want to sleep on this couch for a long time forwards or anything like that, but before he had met Jayme, he had been in a very critical situation - whether he had chosen to admit that fact to himself or not. He had been homeless and cold, and he had only really had a small amount of time before he would have had to go back to make sure that he wouldn't end up freezing to death on that damn street-corner.

 

Now, however - Mickey had somewhere warm to sleep, at least for the next couple of nights or so. That meant that he would have some more time to figure out his next move - maybe he would get ahold some money somehow so that he could find a motel or maybe even a really fucking cheap crap apartment to rent. He wasn’t sure. And ultimately, his head was hurting too bad to think about all of that right this second.

 

Mickey also knew that he couldn’t just completely abandon Svetlana and Yevgeny any more than he already had - he couldn’t exactly find an apartment and move on with his life and never see them again. While he may be a failure, Mickey would never make a conscious decision to be even more of one, if that was even possible at this point. He had to take care of his wife and kid at least somewhat, whether he loved them or not. Mickey’s life was a complete fucking mess at this point, to say the least.

 

By the time Mickey finally moved out of his stone-solid position on the couch, it had probably been close to twenty minutes since the door had fallen closed behind his temporary roommate. He brought his sweater-covered hand up to his face, running a flat palm from his forehead down to his chin, hoping to rub some of the excess sleep out of his system; enough to function a little bit more at least. The morning sun still shone in to cover the living room, and it made Mickey frown a little bit, some annoyance starting to build up at that fact. Alas, he didn’t bother to rise and walk over to close the blinds; the fiery ball would probably move in a few minutes anyway.

 

Instead Mickey looked around for a bit, letting his eyes travel throughout the apartment in the daylight. It didn’t look all that different; the place kind of looked as if it was a complete dump and as if it should cost millions, all at the same time which kind of confused him, but he liked the look of it enough. Jayme’s half-eaten sandwich was still resting on a plate on the kitchen table, and for a second it crossed Mickey’s mind to go over and make one for himself, but he decided to wait a little bit as he had the whole day ahead of him.

 

It did feel incredibly strange. That he had an entire apartment to himself, even if it was just for a few hours until Jayme was due to come back. All of those months in prison lockup, and the years before in houses stuffed full with loud people that never seemed to calm their fighting down - it felt kind of good, but yeah - it felt strange as well. Though Mickey wasn’t really the kind of guy to even try to express it - words would most likely never really be able to describe how thankful he was for all of this. Despite the fact that he didn’t deserve it. Jayme would probably realize that at some point, but for now Mickey decided to go with it. It was the smartest thing to do. Besides - Jayme was kind of cool just judging from the small amount of time that Mickey had spent with him so far. He could have ended up bunking with somebody who was a lot worse.

 

  
***

 

  
“Thought you had those college classes or some other bullshit around now, no?” Winnie raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she accepted the plastic wrapped pack of cigarettes, watching her best friend sit down in front of her. Her insides practically screamed in relief at the sight of the cancer sticks; she had been out for almost two whole days - thankfully, her best friend knew enough about her to understand this, so he always brought a new pack with him.

 

Her long, black hair was as usual tied up into a high pony tail to keep the strands out of her face; her fingernails were somehow perfect, long squares despite her current residence at the correctional facility. The short-sleeved orange jumpsuit seemed to sit just a little bit more firmly around her frame now than it had a week or two back, and it made her friend a little bit happier to see that she was gaining some of the weight back.

 

She had never lost all that much, but of course their previously chosen lifestyle had taken its toll on both of their bodies. More so Jayme’s.

 

“Nah, I still got a couple of hours to kill” Jayme stated truthfully as he looked down at the package of cigarettes, watching the way Winnie was nervously toying with the half-torn plastic, her body quite obviously desperate to have the nicotine coursing throughout her veins again. He had to admit that she did look a lot healthier now than she had back when she had gone in to begin with; probably because she quite obviously didn’t have any excess to the harder stuff that they both used to snort and shoot up several times a day as if it were some kind of harmless candy.

 

Winnie wasn’t shaking as much now as she used to, and except for the slight weight gain, her skin also looked as if it had somewhat more of a glow, her lips not quite as chapped. Whether going off of the hard stuff had been Winnie’s choice or not, it didn’t matter because Jayme was proud of her either way. Sure - she was in prison, but when he thought back on all of the stupid stuff that they had gotten themselves into all those months back, he realized that things could have ended up a hell of a lot worse. For both of them. Alive and mostly clean was a fuck of a miracle.

 

Finally, Winnie gave up and forced her hands to let go of the pack of cigarettes, pushing it a little bit to the side while her nails went over to scraping on each other as the big brown eyes looked into the hazel, the morning sun continuing to stream in through the barred window next to her. Jayme sighed a little bit, making sure to keep the air escaping his nose quiet as he stayed still, sitting by that table.

 

He had his right thumb in between a few of the fingers on his left hand, spinning the metal rings around a little bit. That look was still in his best friend’s eyes. The one that said that she fucking hated this place, but she did anything and everything she could to trick everybody into thinking that she was just fine living like this; in fact, if Jayme knew Winnie right - and he did - she was even starting to believe her own lies by now.

 

“You’re doing okay out there, then?” Winnie’s thick accent was what broke the comfortable silence in between the two. Jayme pulled his shoulders up just a little bit into some kind of a shrug as he reached up, adjusting the black beanie on top of his head just a little bit, making sure that it was sitting on the very back, so that enough of the shock blue strands were being left outside by his forehead. When he was finished, he let his lanky, tattoo covered hands fall back down onto the table.

 

“I’m doing alright, Win. Don’t worry about me” The truth was that all of the schoolwork was kind of kicking Jayme’s ass right now, and he had been pretty unhealthily stressed out about all of that for a while now. That fact aside, he never mentioned that to his best friend anymore. It didn’t seem very fair, because in comparison, he knew that he was living the dream.

 

Back before Winnie had gotten caught and they locked her up in this place - hell, even way before they had both started hanging with the wrong crowds - they had been very loud people. Fun people. They used to laugh, joke around and be complete assholes to each other until they were laying on the floor, clutching their stomachs in pain because the laughter was too much for their bodies to take.

 

They had been that way when they were children, and Jayme’s guess was that whenever Winnie was out of here, they would be those people again. At least somewhat. But now, whenever he visited, they were instead incredibly quiet. Reserved. Not because they weren’t comfortable with each other anymore, but because it just felt wrong to joke around when one of them was serving several long months locked up in a prison - especially when she didn’t deserve it in the very least. It was as if everything that had been going on in the past year had just washed them both out. Removed their childishness to somewhat of a degree, at least.

 

“So how is the macrame going, hm?” Jayme asked then, a teasing smile covering his lips as he did his best to ease his best friend’s mind just a little bit - even if it was just for a second. To the outside world, she would never seem like a kind or sensitive person, but he knew her better than that.

 

***

 

  
Mickey had moved a little bit further up onto the couch, his hand balled into a fist which he rested his cheek onto, the soft fabric of the purple sweatshirt ending up as somewhat of a comfortable divider. His eyes were focused on Jayme’s large television, an old episode of south park playing; it wasn’t nearly as funny when Mickey was sober, though. Though he understood all of the jokes, they didn’t make him laugh. Then again, sober or not - he probably would have laughed at them if Ian had been by his side.

 

“Fuck” Mickey couldn’t help but curse to himself through a whisper as he lifted his head a little bit, straightening his neck while unclenching his hand and closing his eyes, using the tips of his fingers to rub a little bit, hoping that it would stop the stinging tears that he so desperately wanted to avoid. Mickey was pathetic - and he knew this all too well. Ian quite obviously didn’t want him anymore, and who could blame him? Mickey had done anything and everything in his power to help the man he had been - and still was - so very, desperately in love with. It wasn’t healthy in any way, shape or form, and Mickey was aware of this fact as well.

 

The last time Mickey had seen Ian, that had been one of the most painful moments in his entire life - not that he had really let himself admit that right then and there. The empty way in which Ian had looked at him - or not looked might be a more proper of a term. He had just been sitting there; pale and beautiful. Empty. Empty in a way that Mickey had ever really seen him before. Sad and emotionless. Not a single ounce of love left for Mickey inside of him; Mickey knew that it was right. Ian shouldn’t have to bother with him anymore, he didn’t deserve that.

 

Mickey continued clenching his eyes shut, pressing at his eyelids to try to keep his tears trapped as he suffered that knife in his gut once again. The one that was a constant these days, only it grew stronger with each and every time that Ian popped into his head. Mickey could tell himself a thousand times over that he didn’t miss Ian.

 

That he didn’t love him, and that he was well on his way to being over him, but ultimately, the truth was that Mickey had never been deeper in love with Ian than he was at this point in his life. And he had never missed somebody this much before - his heart was just bursting with the feeling. The fact that Mickey didn’t deserve Ian didn’t change that. He just couldn’t help it. And try as he did, nothing seemed to be able to make himself believe his own lies.

 

Finally, Mickey forced himself to take a deep breath, his hand falling to his side again, his eyes red. The train still bopped somewhere in the distance, even this time of day; the sound just barely overclouding the quiet noise of the episode of south park that was soon due to end.

 

An hour ago, Mickey had somehow been looking forwards to spending a day alone. He had wanted to have somewhere warm to be, somewhere he could forget about his troubles and just relax for a little while. But at this point, he was just about jumping for Jayme to come back so that he would be able to focus on something - anything, really - other than the sad mess that seemed to spin around and around and around in his head, never stopping and never becoming clearer.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure who he was, where he was going or even if he was a good or a bad person. All he could hear was that voice in his head screaming ‘Failure. You’re a fucking failure’. That voice was right; it just had to be. That was all Mickey was at this point in his life. Ian, Svetlana, Yevgeny, Mandy - he had failed everybody that he had ever cared about, so maybe it was in everyone’s best interest if he were to just stay away for a while.

 

Mickey tore himself out of his depressive thought track, deciding that this wasn’t the time. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who just sat around feeling sorry for themselves, that wasn’t who he had ever allowed himself to be, and that wasn’t who he would ever like to see himself become either. He ran a hand over his face again, feeling the soft material of the sweatshirt press against his skin before he forced himself to stand up, the muscles in his legs screaming in pain even after the long rest they had gotten. He could feel the slight layer of grime on his skin after those days spent outside in the cold, and he quite honestly really fucking needed to take a piss. The problem was that he wasn’t all that sure where the bathroom was, and didn’t see a door in any of the walls where it could be.

 

It crossed Mickey’s mind to just sit back down and ask Jayme about it whenever he came back, because though Mickey wasn’t exactly a stranger to wandering over to the wrong side of the moral compass, it felt kind of wrong to just go looking through this place. This guy was already doing so fucking much for him - whether he deserved it or not was another story entirely.

 

Mickey ran his hand over his face one more time before taking the few steps over to the kitchen and through it, wondering if he could find it there - he could see practically every inch of the apartment from his spot on the couch, so there weren’t many other options. His brain had automatically assumed that there was nothing more in that area of this apartment - that when you passed the fridge and stove there would just be another cement-wall, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, when he had walked a few steps into the kitchen, standing so that his left shoulder was facing the kitchen bar counter and then the livingroom, there seemed to be another tiny room - actually room was probably an exaggeration. It was more of a large indent in the wall, through which a small white door was placed.

 

Mickey practically sighed in relief, feeling his bladder thank him as he placed a hand around the handle, pushing it open to find the bathroom. It wasn’t all that big - cement walls and floor just like the rest of the place, the small bathtub partly covered by a black shower curtain. He pulled the door closed behind himself, not bothering to lock it since Jayme probably wouldn’t be back for another few hours.

 

Straight across from said door, Mickey noticed another one that looked exactly the same - and he determined that this bathroom much have two ways to enter, one from the kitchen and one from Jayme’s bedroom.

 

As he pissed, Mickey made sure that he was aiming right, and then he tilted his neck backwards, sighing a little bit. His entire body was positively aching from having to be so fucking tense for such a long time. First prison, and then those days spent on the street; he had to admit that whether it was in a stranger’s apartment or not, it felt really fucking good to be able to relax. Even if it was just for a little bit.

 

Once Mickey was done, he flushed and pulled his pants back up, ready to walk back out and sit on the couch for another few hours. However, his skin still felt completely disgusting, and quite frankly he knew that his aching muscles would really enjoy a hot shower. He hadn’t had one in months - well, save for the ones in prison but there was nothing nice about those.

 

Mickey only hesitated for about a second longer before he lifted his arms over his head, tugging Jayme’s sweatshirt off of his body along with his own t shirt; the clothes dropping to the floor as he moved on to his jeans. It felt strange to be out of his clothes for the first time in so long, but he also realized that he really fucking needed this.

 

A minute or so later, he was left completely bare, all of his clothes pushed to the side as he stepped into the small, white bathtub, tugging the shower curtain closed before turning around and spinning one of the knobs until the hot water started pouring out of the weak shower head above him. There wasn’t much pressure at all, but it still made Mickey sigh in relief, his eyes slipping closed.

 

He crossed his arms a little bit over his chest, the tips of his fingers resting in the grooves of his collarbones as he tilted his head back, the warm dribbles of water pouring down onto his face out of the small, rusty shower head.

 

To him, this might as well have been heaven, honestly. His muscles all but sang at the feeling, the water easily enough washing off the layer of grime that Mickey’s skin had gathered during the past few days. It wasn’t until just now that he realized how much he had truly missed this - a home. Temporary or not, a shower and a soft place to sleep beat the hell out of a street corner or a correctional facility.

 

Mickey did his best to keep from it, but of course Ian popped back into his mind as soon as he had started to become a little bit happier. He had always done his best thinking in the shower, but that wasn’t all that much of a good thing right now, seeing as the only things that he really had to think about were just going to bring him down. No matter how much he spun and spun and spun, he couldn’t seem to figure all of this out. What he was doing with his life, or even who he was. He sounded like a broken record even to himself. What the fuck. He kept his eyes closed along with his lips, and he did everything in his power to stop thinking about his ex boyfriend.

 

Mickey didn’t want to think about all of the moments they had spent together in a shower much like this one. He didn’t want to think about how certain he had once been that Ian would be his forever. That he would be Ian’s and that they would someday be completely happy with their own life together.

 

Mickey wasn't all that sure if the wetness on his cheeks was purely water or if there was some tears in there as well, and quite frankly he didn’t want to find out. His throat was tight, so maybe that was his answer. He had screwed up so fucking bad. Ian had depended on him, he had needed him and what had Mickey done? He had pushed and pushed and pushed until Ian was worse - and until he didn’t love him anymore. It was as if Mickey destroyed everything and everyone he touched.

 

Mickey’s head was starting to ache with the heavy thoughts, so he did what he could to push them aside - empty his head enough that he could enjoy a few more minutes of this shower before the water would surely end up running cold in a building like this. Weak or not, the streams felt amazing on his shoulders, the drops sliding down over his pale body, a few of the black strands sticking to his forehead.

 

Soon, he opened his eyes, looking around a little bit until the found a half full bottle of some kind of soap, picking it up. Next to it there were two matching round bottles, one with shampoo and one of conditioner - they looked expensive and truthfully Mickey should have fucking known that his hair was what Jayme spent the most money on. He lived in a place like this and yet he spent hundreds on hair-care; it almost made Mickey’s mouth pull upwards in amusement - almost, that was.

 

Mickey settled for using the soap for both his body and hair, quickly rubbing it into the strands and over his dirty skin, making sure that he didn’t take too much time because the water was already starting to lose some of its heat.

 

Once he was finished, he turned the knob again, making the water stop before he turned and looked at the towels that were hanging over the shower rack, tugging down the one that looked the least used as he guessed that the other one was what Jayme usually used. He stepped out, his muscles already feeling a little bit happier - and actually, Mickey was as well. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was happy, but for now he would settle for better. That was all he could hope for at this point, he supposed.

 

After he had tugged his clothes back on, he lifted the towel up to his head, running it over his hair a little bit, making sure that the black strands wouldn’t be dripping everywhere. His crying had since long stopped, but his eyes still carried that red, stinging tinge of evidence and it bothered the fuck out of him. Mickey Milkovich had never been the kind of guy who cried, but this past year, the tears that had escaped his eyes would probably be able to fill up an entire fucking bathtub. That fact didn’t exactly raise his opinion of himself - low as it may be at this point.

 

Once Mickey was dressed and dry, he turned around and hung the towel back up, making sure that it would end up drying. Then he looked down at the sweatshirt that he had peeled off of his body before the shower, hesitating for only a second before picking it back up and pulling it on - if Jayme wanted it back, he could say so but for right now Mickey had established the fact that this apartment was fucking freezing so like fuck he was walking around in just a t shirt.

 

When Mickey was finished in the bathroom, he walked back out, deciding to occupy himself with some more episodes of various cartoons in the hours before Jayme came back.

 

  
***

 

  
About three hours after Mickey had taken his shower, he heard the rassle of the front door along with something heavy hitting the floor - most likely the bag that had been hanging over his shoulder back when he had left. How he was strong enough to carry that shit around all day, Mickey wasn’t sure - he wasn’t even sure that he would have been able to. He stayed seated on the couch, his temple resting into his open, sweater-covered palm, his legs pulled up in under himself. He wasn’t all that sure what it was about this place that made him comfortable - well, comfortable enough considering he was currently living in a stranger’s apartment - but he felt incredibly calm staying here somehow. As if he was truly crashing with a friend that he had known for a while.

 

“Hey” Jayme greeted as he kicked his shoes off and entered the apartment, walking over to the couch where Mickey was sitting.

 

Mickey looked up, struggling a little bit since his eyelids were starting to become just a little bit heavier with the need for some more sleep - he could grab that later, though because right now Jayme was placing a hot pizza box on the table in front of him, and his stomach immediately remembered that he had completely forgotten to eat at all today. The darkness was starting to fall outside again, the sun nowhere to be seen, so by now it probably wasn’t all that strange that Mickey’s body was craving food once again.

 

“Hey, man” Mickey said back as Jayme picked his beanie up off of the carton and walked back over to the hooks by the door, sliding his leather jacket off of his body, hanging it up as he let his bag rest on the floor for now, turning back around.

 

“I want something to drink with that, you?” He asked Mickey then, turning towards the kitchen. It was incredibly strange, really - how comfortable they already were around each other even if it was just in regular situations like these.

 

Sure, Mickey couldn’t really call this guy a friend just yet - they didn’t know anything about each other beyond their first names. But he also couldn’t shake the feeling that Jayme genuinely cared about people in a way that Mickey had never really seen before. He was kind. Why that was, Mickey didn’t know. Had he grown up the way Mickey did, that would surely have gotten him killed before he could be called an adult.

 

“You got any beer?” Mickey asked back, feeling his headache start to subside a little bit even at the simple thought of getting some food into his system. It took a minute or two but then Jayme entered the livingroom again, putting two cans of root-beer down onto the table.

 

“I have this and water; I don’t really drink anymore” Mickey did nothing but nod as he moved to the ride, giving Jayme some space to sit down on the couch, the quiet noise of an old episode of some random cartoon still filling the livingroom.

 

Had this been back home, maybe Mickey would have questioned why somebody wouldn’t drink - growing up, that had been the constant thing among everybody. Alcohol. But ultimately, he didn’t bother. Jayme had done enough for him, the last thing he needed to do was question this guy’s life choices, he didn’t even know his last name.

 

Mickey reached for the pizza box, folding it open and lifting a slice with him as he sat back up straight on the couch, folding his legs together underneath his body until he was comfortable.

 

Jayme picked his long, skinny legs up onto the couch, sitting sideways so that he was facing Mickey though his head was turned to the side, eyes focused onto the television screen, his knees almost all the way up by his chest. He lifted his hands up to his head, gathering the wavy, shock blue strands up onto the top of his head; his hair wasn’t really long enough for all of it to stay in a bun at all, but he still used the hairtie around his wrist to gather some of it before he reached for a slice of pizza for himself, taking a bite and chewing slowly.

 

Neither of the men said anything for the next few minutes. Instead they just sat there in a comfortable silence, curled up on the couch in the dark livingroom, watching cartoons, eating pizza and drinking root-beer.

 

The bleached, purple fabric of Jayme’s sweatshirt was still hanging comfortably over Mickey’s body, his frame practically drowning in the piece of clothing considering the fact that it was meant for someone who was a fuck of a lot taller. One of the south park episodes that had been shown this morning came back around on the television screen, and Mickey actually found it kind of funny now.

 

Because next to Jayme on that couch in that dark livingroom, with pizza and soda and the sound of the train rushing somewhere in the distance - for some fucked up reason that Mickey would never be able to explain in a million years - he felt more at home than he had in a long time. He felt safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this chapter, but I was so fucking distracted all day, it's a miracle that I have a chapter to post at all, so it will have to do I guess. They will get to talking a lot more in the next few chapters, and things will start to move forwards! Please let me know if anybody is still liking this! <3


	5. Mr. Ultra-Sensitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because right there, in that dark livingroom at three am, Mickey and Jayme were having one of those talks. You know the kind. The kind of talk that seem to go on forever - and then some.

_Soft, calm breaths escaped Mickey’s nose as he laid there on his stomach, cheek pressed against the pillow. He was just on the edge of falling asleep, feeling as if he was floating somewhere in the distance, his body tingling, muscles tired from the fuck-a-thon he and Ian had just gotten through a while ago. The soft covers were draped over his body, his arm folded, hand resting on the mattress a few inches away from his face. His eyes were closed, mind clear. Though he wasn’t quite awake enough to register the thought properly, he felt safer than he had in his entire life. Happier. He was in love. Truly in love - with a man. Something that he had never in his entire life imagined to be possible for him. Mickey had never let himself believe that he deserved to have something like that._

 

_“Hey, you awake?” The mattress shifted a little bit behind Mickey as his boyfriend’s whispered words reached his ears, the smell of cigarette smoke registering with him as the sound made him wake up just a little bit more. A small smile started developing on his face, and Mickey didn’t even try to stop it. Maybe it could be called pathetic that the simple sound of somebody’s voice could make him do that - make him smile and make him feel all happy inside. But he didn’t care; he had since long stopped trying to get himself to avoid the feelings he had for Ian Gallagher. He loved Ian with all of his heart, and that was alright. Because he knew that Ian loved him all the same._

 

_“I am… now” Mickey finally mumbled, feeling his body and brain start to wake up a little bit more with every second that passed in the dark room, his stomach starting to flutter in that special way that he had never once been able to stop it from doing around Ian._

 

_“I can’t sleep…” Ian mumbled, childishly holding out the last word as he moved a little bit more. Mickey’s smile grew bigger - maybe it could even be called a grin - as he felt his boyfriend begin to drape his body over his own. The grin stayed on Mickey’s lips, his eyes remaining closed as he woke up even a little bit more, beginning to crave Ian’s weight on top of himself._

 

_“Again?” Mickey mumbled, and his smile was definitely a grin by now. He swallowed a little bit, feeling Ian press himself a little bit closer, his chin resting by his shoulder. Tonight they had fucked almost five times in the span of a few hours, and to be completely honest, Mickey wasn’t all too sure how his ass would end up surviving another one - he didn’t have it in him to say no to Ian, though. Not because he was scared or some shit, but because he was so fucking in love with this man. The kind of love that he had never once imagined to be possible before he had met him._

 

_Mickey would always want Ian. In any and every way that he could possibly get him. And that was alright, because he knew that Ian would always love him and want him in the same desperate way. Ian loved him. He did. All the kisses, all the sweet whispered nothings. All the promises. The ‘I’ll always love you’s and the ‘I don’t blame you’s. The ‘Forever’s. They couldn’t be lies. They couldn’t be washed away. They just couldn’t be._

 

  
***

 

  
“Hey. Mickey, wake up. Please. Come on” Mickey’s throat was dry as he felt something push his shoulder a few times, the low and smooth voice reaching his ear. His fists were clenched around the cuffs of the sweatshirt covering his upper body, the skin of his knuckles surely turning white. His chest was heaving heavily up and down, his messy head somewhere in between consciousness and unconsciousness while he moved around, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed. His mouth only seemed to become even dryer and dryer with every second that passed. “Mickey” For a second, Mickey wondered why Ian’s voice was so fucking deep but soon he woke up enough to tune in reality. He hadn’t noticed that he had been screaming until he was awake enough to stop and close his mouth.

 

Mickey swallowed, bringing his sweater-covered palms up to his face to press some of the tears back into his eyes, though it didn’t help all that much because his entire face was already soaked. He was well aware of the fact that Jayme was on his knees next to the couch, but Mickey chose not to look up at him right now - this was already too mortifying. It wasn’t as if this was the first time that he had woken up in the middle of the next, crying and screaming for Ian - in fact, it happened a lot more than he was proud of. He had just hoped that nobody else would ever have to witness this side of him.

 

Mickey hated it - he was a Milkovich. He was supposed to be strong, and he wasn’t supposed to cry over Ian. Not anymore. Quite frankly, though he was still very well aware of the fact that he missed Ian, that he loved him and that he was mourning whatever they had had together - in the past weeks, he was been doing fine. Sure, he cried, and sure he took a stab to the gut whenever the though about the army or red strands of hair.

 

But back in the very beginning, Mickey had been doing a lot worse. He had woken up crying and screaming almost every single night. Like a fucking child. He wasn’t an idiot - he knew that that wasn’t his fault. He knew that he didn’t have any control over it, and that he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. Maybe time would eventually do that for him. But that didn’t mean that he had to like the fact that somebody else now knew his secret. Knew how badly he was hurting.

 

Mickey swallowed roughly, easing himself to sit up as he continued pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, turning his body so that his back was towards the back of the couch. Knowing that Jayme was in the room of course made Mickey feel even more pathetic, but even if he hadn’t been - he already felt like a failure enough and having Ian in his dreams and his nightmares didn’t exactly make him think any more highly of himself. He just felt like a fucking pile of trash or something else that nobody could ever love - including himself.

 

“Are you gonna be alright, mate?” At the dark, whispered words, Mickey was immediately taken back to the very first time that he had ever met Jayme. He was pretty sure that those were the six exact words that he had spoken that night as well. It wasn’t longer than a few days ago, but for some reason it kind of felt as if it was. Mickey finally let his hands drop to his lap, his eyes blinking open and directly falling onto his temporary roommate.

 

Jayme was sitting on his knees next to the couch in the dark livingroom, the shock blue strands pulled up into that tiny bun on top of his head, the color appearing just a little bit more green now than it would in a few hours once the sun came up. His thin, perfectly arched eyebrows were furrowed as he looked up at Mickey, that large black hoodie hanging over his skinny shoulders, almost making it appear as if he were a healthy weight. The metal of his nose-ring and the studs placed below his lower lip glimmered just a little bit in the moonlight that was seeping in through the window. Mickey had imagined that he would see judgement or annoyance - since he had surely woken the taller man up with his screaming - but Jayme didn’t look upset. He just looked worried. Kind.

 

“Fine” Mickey’s head moved slowly up and down as he tore the short-lived eye contact in between them, bringing his right hand back up to his face, using the soft fabric to wipe at a few of the drying tears beneath his eyes before he cleared his throat, thumbing his bottom lip. The apartment was quiet - way too quiet - and despite the fact that Mickey wasn’t alone in the room, his mind still drifted back to his horrible dream. Or amazing dream would probably be the correct term, though seeing as Mickey was trying his absolute hardest to forget about Ian, dreaming about one of the best moments in their relationship wasn’t something he liked doing. Which was probably why he had ended up crying and screaming. He was so fucking pathetic. “Really fucking sorry for waking you up, man” Mickey spoke then, his gaze dropping into his lap for a second.

 

“No, don’t worry about that” Jayme assured him no more than a second later, and though Mickey was still a little bit too mortified to pick the eye contact back up in between them, he had a feeling that that look was still on his face. That look of worry and kindness. The kind of look that Mickey didn’t deserve from anybody after all the shit he had done - no matter who they were, nobody should be wasting their time on Mickey. He wasn’t worth any of it, and soon enough, surely Jayme would realize that as well. “Do you want me to make us some coffee or something? Stay up for a bit, yeah?”

 

“You don’t gotta do that, man. Go back to bed, I’ll be fine” As surprised as Mickey was by his roommate’s offer, he wasn’t willing to destroy even more of his night than he already had. He swallowed, his eyes and face stinging a little bit with the drying tears.

 

Surely his entire face was flushed red by now - maybe even his body. He fucking hated this shit - he hated how his subconscious seemed to miss Ian even more than he did when he was awake; if that was even possible, of course. But then again, a part of Mickey knew very well that if somebody deserved to be in this much pain, it was him. He had failed Ian, he had failed his entire family and there was nothing he could do about it now other than try to get through all of this. The word ‘failure’ never seemed to escape him, though. Not for one single second.

 

“No actually, I’m gonna go start some” Jayme’s dark voice once again pulled Mickey out of his own head, his gaze being drawn back to the tattoo covered man right as he stood up from the floor, starting to walk over to the kitchen in the darkness, passing the kitchen table and heading towards the coffee machine. Mickey watched absentmindedly, still wondering why the fuck Jayme seemed to care so much about him when there was literally nothing in it for him whatsoever.

 

Jayme was wearing nothing on his lower half save for a pair of boxers, leaving his long, skinny legs bare; the skin there was just as littered with ink as the rest of his body, somehow enhancing how unhealthy his weight truly was - his legs almost looked as if they belonged on a sixteen yearold girl, and even then she would need to gain some weight. His hair was messed up from the few hours of sleep he had gotten, and about half of his hair had ended up falling out of the tiny bun on top of his head as it wasn’t quite long enough to stay.

 

Mickey’s eyes followed him as he moved around, but his mind wasn’t really with them. Instead his thoughts were deep inside of his own head, thinking about the dream he had just had. He didn’t know what exactly he had been screaming, and of course he didn’t want to ask his roommate about it - that would take awkward to a whole new level, at least as far as Mickey saw it. Him and Ian was none of Jayme’s business, and he highly doubted that Jayme would feel as if it was. So far he seemed kind of cool like that. He was kind of there for Mickey - for some fucked up reason that Mickey was yet to be able to wrap his head around - but he didn’t push at all.

 

Mickey’s eyes still stung a little bit with the drying tears and he brought his right hand up to his face again, running the soft, bleach purple fabric over his eyes and pressing a little bit, hoping that it would take away the last of it. Mickey hated feeling vulnerable - he didn't care if somebody saw him cry or if nobody would ever know, he still despised it. He hated feeling weak and he hated feeling bruised. That wasn’t who he was supposed to be. That wasn’t who he wanted to be. Not now and not ever.

 

“There you go” Mickey looked up, gratefully accepting the large cup of coffee that Jayme was handing him; though it was the middle of the night, there was something comforting about holding it, feeling the heat seep into his palms as he curled both of his hands around the dark blue ceramic, bringing the cup down into his lap as he crossed his legs into an indian position.

 

Jayme walked around the livingroom table, and Mickey furrowed his brows just a little bit, wondering what he was doing. He got his answer when he nudged the table a little bit, getting it to move a little bit further away from the couch before he sat down in the space in between, leaning his back against the table, his long fucking giraffe legs folded up so that his knees were touching his chest.

 

“Now I can sit like an egg” Jayme’s voice was just a tiny bit more high pitched than it usually was as he got comfortable - as comfortable as one could possibly be sitting like that, that was - he sounded a little bit sillier than Mickey had heard him in the past, and though he had his head tilted forwards, looking into his cup of coffee to make sure that he didn’t spill it, Mickey thought that there was a smile on his face - almost as if he was entertaining himself for a second or two. Like a child.

 

“You are a fucking egg” Mickey hadn’t been aware that he had had the lame comeback on the tip of his tongue before it was out of his mouth, and he wasn’t sure why he was comfortable saying it to somebody that he didn’t know at all - granted he had been staying with Jayme for a couple of days now, so he supposed that it was only natural that they gradually grew a little bit more comfortable around each other despite the fact that they didn’t really talk.

 

From the darkness outside and the sleepiness trudging through his own veins, Mickey also guessed that the time was somewhere between one and three am - so neither of them were due to be in a state of mind to really think too hard about their words. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; what was that saying again? You don’t truly know somebody before you’ve been up with them past three am? Something like that.

 

At Mickey’s lame comment, Jayme just chuckled, his voice back to its dark state as he looked up at his roommate, bringing his cup of coffee to his lips, watching Mickey do the same. The childish air in between them didn’t last for long, though. As much as Mickey would have loved to try to avoid it, as soon as he looked down into the black liquid of his coffee mug, his thoughts went right back to Ian. He would love to find a way to get over it - a way to forget about Ian - fuck, a way to forget about anything and everything that made him feel like shit.

 

But deep inside of himself, he was well aware of the fact that he didn’t deserve that. He sounded like a broken record even to himself, but how could somebody like himself possibly even begin to deserve happiness? He had destroyed it for everybody else. He had gone too hard on Ian, he should have held on even tighter to Svetlana and Yevgeny - helped them more. Now all three of them were in worse positions than they had been before - not to mention Mandy. Wherever she was now.

 

“I ask you something?” Mickey was surprisingly enough the one to break the comfortable silence a minute or two later. Jayme looked up at him from his spot on the floor, his head moving up and down a couple of times as he took another large gulp of coffee out of the mug that he had his long, shaded fingers wrapped around. Then he brought it back down, the bottom of the blue ceramic resting in between his knees. Mickey was quiet for a second or so, looking at his roommate - not really registering, just looking as he tried to figure out how to voice what was in his head. If he knew Jayme right - which, actually technically it wasn’t possible to know him at all since they had met all of a couple of days ago, but from what he could gather, at least - he wasn’t the kind of guy to get upset or anything, but Mickey still wasn’t sure how to voice his question because he wasn’t really even sure what it was. Finally, though; “You say you’ve been… me”

 

Jayme nodded once or twice more, and the air in the room shifted just a tiny bit, almost as if he was getting ready to begin telling a story or something. Mickey had to say that he wouldn’t mind it if he did - he wasn’t all too sure why even now but listening to Jayme talk was something that he kind of liked to do. Maybe it had to do with his voice, or his accent. Or maybe it was because of the way in which he expressed himself. Mickey didn’t know or care to find out.

 

“The short story is um…” Jayme begun, the ‘um’ carrying even lower of a pitch than Mickey had ever really heard the taller man use before - he supposed that it was because he was about to say something that was difficult or uncomfortable to talk about. Or maybe it was just heavy. But in that dark livingroom in the middle of the night, Mickey found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know a little bit more about the guy who had saved his life. “I grew up back in Australia, right?”

 

Jayme had had his gaze focused down into the black, steaming liquid inside of his coffee mug, but now he lifted his head, looking up at Mickey. Mickey did nothing but stay still as he listened, his pale fingers wrapped around his own coffee cup, the heat still seeping into his palms.

 

“My dad was gone a lot of the time - army” Mickey swallowed, forcing himself not to acknowledge the stab in his heart at the word - if he wanted to have any kind of shot at ever moving on, he couldn’t let something as simple as a fucking four letter word drag him back down. “My mum’s great - always been great - but I think I always just kind of gravitated more towards him”

 

Jayme shrugged a little bit, swallowing as he was quiet for a beat. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and Mickey couldn’t help but think that maybe he thought this felt good somehow - to talk about whatever it was that had landed him in a bad situation. Granted, Mickey didn’t know him well at all, but that’s what he could gather from the way he sometimes looked down into his cup of coffee and seemed to somehow get lost in the blackness. He didn’t look or sound very sad, though - just reminiscing.

 

“Siblings?” Mickey asked, leaning back into the couch a little bit, lifting his cup of coffee up to his mouth, taking a gulp as he waited for his roommate to continue talking.

 

“None to speak of” Was all he answered on that subject, looking up at Mickey with the bare minimum of what would be considered a smile. Then he pulled his skinny shoulders up a little bit into some kind of a half shrug - almost as if he was freezing. “Anyway - um… he was killed in Afghanistan back when I was about eighteen, yeah” Jayme continued then, his voice pitched a little bit lower. Filled with some more sadness than a moment ago.

 

Mickey’s brows furrowed. From the few words, it seemed as if Jayme’s dad had been a good person, a good parent. He had never really had that, so he couldn’t imagine it - much less could he imagine having that and then having them torn out of your life.

 

“Told myself I needed a change” Jayme continued then, his head tilted upwards, eyes on Mickey’s.

 

Mickey couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that when they were both positioned like this - him on the couch, Jayme on the floor - Jayme looked a lot smaller than he usually did. More vulnerable. Then again, that might have something to do with the things he was currently revealing about himself. It wasn’t very detailed so far, but Mickey would never be brave enough to do the same.

 

“Though, really I just think I wanted to way to act out without my mum watching over me, yeah? My best friend and I decided to leave. We both grew up together with her cousin, but he moved away kind of young. We found out that this was where he was living at the time, so we figured it was a solid choice” Jayme paused for another beat, and Mickey did nothing but look down at him, waiting for the rest. “We both ended up getting into a lot of trouble after that - a lot of drinking and a lot of sleeping around. A lot of drugs” He emphasized ‘a lot’ quite heavily, and Mickey furrowed his brows together, with that understanding that Jayme’s use of drugs had gone way beyond his own ‘let’s try this shit out’ mentality. “It was pretty fucking bad…” He confirmed Mickey’s assumption then, taking another large gulp of the coffee in his hands, reminding Mickey to do the same. Then they established that calm eye contact again, and Jayme finished; “We lived on the street for quite a few months - I don’t really remember much of it to be honest. A lot of it’s still pretty blurry”

 

Mickey swallowed, feeling as if he had some more pieces to the puzzle that was Jayme. In the beginning, he had been terrified and he had thought that it was really strange and really uncomfortable that he was being to kind and understanding. Now he got it - Jayme recognized himself in Mickey. Simple as fucking that.

 

“Looks like you’re doing alright now, man. How’d you get out of it?” Mickey wasn’t all too sure if he was asking because he wanted to get to know Jayme better, or if he subconsciously wanted to find some hope that he could someday get out of this hole of self loathing he had dig for himself - accurate as it may be. Either way he wanted to know the answer to his question. Jayme was silent for a beat, the bottom of his coffee mug being held in between his ink covered knees, his hands still wrapped around the blue ceramic, eyes focused down into the coffee as he appeared to be thinking over his answer. Soon, he looked up again and he spoke;

 

“Around the time we turned twenty three, Winnie did something really fucked up. And um… she’s in prison. I think that’s when shit got real, you know? I think we both realized that it’s dangerous stuff and that it’s not a game. Stuff can go really wrong” Mickey hung onto every single word, understanding Jayme more and more with every second that passed. His eyebrows were furrowed, eye contact established in between the men as Jayme shrugged. “I spent the next couple of years focusing on getting clean and I got into college - a lot later than most people would obviously, but the past six months have actually been pretty good”

 

Mickey’s head moved up and down once, and the eye contact in between them broke as he moved his gaze back down into his black coffee, just a little bit of it left now. Jayme’s words rotated a few times inside of his head, and he turned them over, thinking about the huge mass information that he had gotten about this guy in only a few sentences.

 

Mickey wasn’t all too sure that he would ever be brave enough to share his past just like that - whether he had known the person for two days or two years. But he supposed that they were just different in that way, and that was alright. Then, Mickey got to the very last part of Jayme’s story and his eyebrows furrowed a little bit before he looked up. Jayme was just swallowing down a gulp of coffee, pulling his knees a little bit closer to his chest as they looked at each other again.

 

“You’re twenty six?” Mickey wasn’t sure why that was the first question out of his mouth, but for some reason he had just assumed that Jayme was around his own age - one or two years older, maybe. At most. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might be older. Or then again, maybe that was because a lot of the time Mickey felt older than he was. More tired with life than he should be at twenty years old.

 

“I will be in december, yeah” Jayme confirmed. “Why? You’re around my age, no?” For some reason, Mickey sank a little bit deeper into the couch, his head moving slowly from side to side once or twice, the eye contact in between the guys breaking once again.

 

“‘M only twenty. But fuck, if I don’t feel like sixty sometimes” Mickey felt comfortable adding with a sigh, his eyes falling closed for just a moment before he opened them again, staring down into the cooling black sea inside of the blue ceramic mug.

 

“Yeah, you look like you’ve been through a lot I reckon, huh?” Mickey lifted his head back up at the words, looking down at his roommate. Jayme was blinking up at him, his skinny, ink covered fingers curled around his own mug, the skinny legs pulled up against the over-sized hoodie making him look as if his body proportions were quite a bit off. A few more strands of the turquoise - or blue or green, try as Mickey did he couldn’t decide exactly what color it was meant to be - hair having slipped out of the hairtie on top of his head. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Mickey. If you don’t want to. But if you do, as soon as the sun rises we can forget about all of it”

 

Mickey gnawed on the inside of his bottom lip as he looked at Jayme, trying to make a decision. The truth was that it would probably ease him a little bit to talk about it, even if he didn’t go deep. Especially - as fucked up as it sounded - if he was talking to Jayme. Because somehow he knew that he was listening. Truly. Maybe he even gave a shit. So maybe it was the silence of the night, the fact that Mickey now knew that his roommate had a friend to was in prison - or maybe it was just the pure kindness in Jayme’s eyes. Either way;

 

“Prison” Mickey swallowed, looking back down into his cup of coffee. “That’s where I was before I came up here” He spoke. He didn’t look at Jayme, because he knew that he would end up getting discouraged. So instead he took a breath, and he continued. “‘M not a fucking psycho or some shit like that. Made a lot of fucking mistakes and…” He paused to swallow once again, gathering up the courage to say what he hadn’t even let himself admit inside of his own head. “Now I got no one”

 

When Mickey finally braved a look up, Jayme had his head just a tiny bit tilted to the side, his perfectly arched eyebrows a little bit furrowed together while their eyes connected. Mickey did his best to remain as confident as he could, but of course he was terrified. It had been a long time since he had let himself be even the slightest bit vulnerable in front of somebody.

 

“I believe you” At Mickey’s frown, Jayme elaborated. “That you’re not a psycho” He clarified, shrugging a little bit. “I believe you’re a good person”

 

“Why?” Mickey couldn’t help but ask him. If Jayme thought that he was a good person, then maybe he wasn’t as smart as he had perceived him to be. After everything, only an insane person would classify Mickey Milkovich as a good person - he was a failure. Try as he might, he never seemed to be able to even begin to shake that label.

 

“I like to believe in people” Jayme spoke easily enough, the mere hint of a comforting smile appearing on his lips as he looked up into Mickey’s eyes, pulling his knees up a little bit closer to his chest.

 

“That very smart?” Mickey asked him then, adding a slight teasing tone into the question to make sure that Jayme understood it was a joke - well, somewhat at least. Back where Mickey came from, believing in people got you killed. Put you at risk anyway. Maybe that’s why most of the people he knew were pretty harsh outwards - including himself.

 

“Why, are you going to kill me in my sleep?” Jayme joked back, his smile growing a little bit. Mickey was slowly starting to realize that they were growing more comfortable around each other - hence the joking nature developing piece by piece.

 

“Nah, man” Mickey shook his head, looking down into his coffee for a second before lifting his gaze back up. “I save that for the guys who don’t save my ass from sleeping out in the cold” It meant to be a joke, but both men pretty quickly realized that it was true. That it wasn’t a joke because Jayme had truly saved Mickey that night. That wasn’t something to dance around and though Mickey wasn’t the kind to express it, he was truly grateful. Much more than he would be able to express in words, even if he were the type to try.

 

The silence fell in between them after that - not an awkward one - they were just comfortable with not saying anything and taking a minute or two to collect their own thoughts, both of the men looking down into the black liquid in their blue ceramic mugs, Mickey continuing to gnaw a little bit on the inside of his bottom lip.

 

The truth was that even though he tried and tried, he still had no fucking idea how he had ended up getting here. How he and Ian had somehow been this happy little family together with Svetlana and Yevgeny - they had been more in love than ever and it wasn’t even all that long ago. But somehow Mickey had managed to shatter all of that in a matter of months. Failure. That was all he could possibly be at this point.

 

“You ever wonder um…” Mickey mumbled a minute or two into the silence, Jayme looking up at him. “How…” Maybe it was because of their somewhat similar pasts, or maybe it was just the magic of being awake at three am - either way, Mickey didn’t have to say anything more. Jayme knew what his question was.

 

“I think maybe it happens when we’re not looking, you know?” Mickey swallowed, their eyes connecting as he waited for Jayme to continue talking. The skinny man shrugged a little bit, tightening his hold around the coffee mug in his hands, not much heat escaping it anymore. “How we just… fuck our lives up. I think it happens when we’re not looking, and when we realize it - it’s just… already who we are” Both pairs of eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Jayme’s tongue slid across his bottom lip in thought, and he let go of the mug with his right hand, bringing it up to his temple to push a few of the blue strands back, his fingertips staying leaning against his head, almost as if he had a headache but he was probably just beginning to feel the lack of sleep. “Almost like the car crash on the side of the road everybody stops and… looks at”

 

Mickey swallowed, drinking the words in. ‘ _The car crash on the side of the road everybody stops and looks at_.’ That was exactly how he felt. Syllable by syllable - he just hadn’t known how to describe that feeling until just now. Until Jayme did it for him.

 

Mickey pulled his knees up to his chest, their eyes staying on each other’s. After that, they were silent for a minute or so, but that wasn’t the end of their night. Because right there, in that dark livingroom at three am, Mickey and Jayme were having one of those talks. You know the kind. The kind of talk that seem to go on forever - and then some. When the sun came up, rest assured that neither of them would have forgotten any of it. Because that was the night that they became friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Things are starting to pick up. It's obviously going to be a little while longer before *things* are going to start happening, but at least we're moving forwards a little bit. I hope that you're still liking this story, and I'm wishing you all a great day <3 
> 
> Also, for those of you who may be wondering - yes, Ian will be in this story. There will be a closure scene! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [{Come say hello because I'm very lonely}](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/)


	6. Stronger Than Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything that Jayme had done for him, Mickey really didn’t like the thought of him not taking care of himself. Maybe it was strange since he hadn’t known this guy for even a week, but he supposed that it made sense in a way. A person like Jayme deserved to be happy and healthy, unlike somebody like himself.

Mickey’s black eyebrows were heavily knitted together in annoyance when something nudged his shoulder. His lips were parted as he laid on his side, facing into the livingroom while catching up on some of the sleep that he had missed due to his and Jayme’s long talk last night - or technically this morning; whatever. That one bleached sweatshirt was still sitting on his upper body, joined by nothing but Mickey’s boxers because when he had gone back to sleep last night, for the first time in what felt like forever, he had actually felt too hot. And after all of those months in prison, and those days out on the street, that had actually felt quite good. Something touched Mickey’s shoulder again, but he was still a little bit too deep into his sleep for it to really register, so all that happened was that a low groan welled up in his throat, and he curved his neck a little bit to bury his face in the covers, waiting for the disturbance to go away and let him sleep.

 

“Mickey” A second, unconscious groan welled up in Mickey’s throat; that was followed by a heavy sigh and slowly but surely the land of sleep started to disappear into the distance. Another nudge to his shoulder, and he realized that somebody was trying to wake him up. He swallowed thickly, inwardly cringing at the dry and crusty feeling in his throat that he had most mornings; the thick eyebrows stayed furrowed, partly in annoyance and partly because he was just really fucking tired. His hand was somewhat folded into a fist in the soft cuff of the sweatshirt, his fingers moving a little bit while his brain started roaring to life again. Soon enough, Mickey was awake enough to turn over onto his back, his arm folded over his forehead, face settled into a frown as he slowly opened his eyes - blinking a little bit at a time as he by now had figured out that the sun shone right in through the large window and onto the couch the first thing in the morning - hitting him right in the face.

 

It took a second or two, but finally he managed to successfully settle his gaze on his roommate. Jayme was standing on the side of the couch, looking down at Mickey with a neutral expression on his face. The shock blue hair was collected up into that tiny bun on top of his head, though most of the strands seemed to have fallen out by now; his arms were hanging limply by his sides, and that same black hoodie that he always seemed to sleep in was still hanging off of his shoulders, leading Mickey to believe that it was in fact still the morning and not three pm or some shit.

 

“Fucking time’s it?” Mickey let his eyes fall closed again as the rasped words escaped his lips; he lifted his right hand up to his face, hoping to rub some of the remaining sleep out of his features. He swallowed once again, still annoyed with how fucking dry his throat always felt first thing in the morning.

 

“A little bit before nine” Came Jayme’s answer, and his voice sounded a little bit less dark than it normally was - just a tiny bit, and he almost sounded as if he was trying to be cute, as if he was talking to a baby - almost as if he was apologizing for waking Mickey up, which frankly, Mickey didn’t have a problem with. Him apologizing for it, that was - he was fucking exhausted and he needed some more sleep. Granted, after everything Jayme had done for him, Mickey didn’t have any right to complain about anything whatsoever, and he knew this all too well.

 

“Didn’t go back to sleep until six, man. The fuck you waking me up for?” Granted, Mickey had never been much of a morning person. Maybe it was unfair to be grumpy, but honestly - he doubted that Jayme would have been any kinder to him, had it been the other way around. No fucking sane person was alright with being woken up way earlier than they needed to be. Not one.

 

“I need you to kill a spider for me” At that statement, Mickey let his arm fall to his side, his facial expression going from a slightly annoyed frown to his signature ‘What the actual fuck, man?’. Apparently Jayme noticed that fact, because Mickey didn’t have to say the words out loud before he started elaborating. “It’s in my bedroom, I don’t like it. They really freak me out. Please” Jayme spoke, his deep accent sounding as if it didn’t really belong with the words. In another situation - one that didn’t include a headache, lack of sleep and still somewhat aching muscles from his days of walking all over Illinois - Mickey might have laughed at the fact that a man as big - well, tall at least - as Jayme would be scared of a tiny spider. Alas, even in his sleep-deprived state, Mickey realized that after everything this guy had done for him, the least he could do was get up early to kill a fucking spider for him, saying no and rolling back over - as tempting as it may be - would make him even more of an asshole than he already was.

 

“Fine, man” Mickey spoke through somewhat or a tired sigh, easing himself up and pushing the covers off of his body as he turned a little bit, placing his feet onto the soft rug on the floor, dipping his head in an attempt to avoid the sun while he stayed still for a second, gathering up the energy he would need to stand up and carry himself, though his sleep was wearing off quite quickly, actually. “You got a paper or something?”

 

Jayme headed over towards the kitchen, and Mickey swallowed down the last bit of his dry throat, making him able to talk without sounding like a strangled cat. The sun was still beaming in through the large window, making his headache all that much worse, so he finally stood up, turning away from the couch and the large glass square as he brought his right hand up to his face, running the flat palm over his face in hopes of getting rid of the last bit of sleep, the soft fabric feeling good against his skin. Though he hadn’t gotten many hours of sleep, with every second his body was starting to catch up with the fact that he was awake now, starting to function as it should. He wasn’t in a good place in his life, quite obviously, but the past few days he had felt more awake than he usually did - most likely thanks to the fact that Jayme’s couch was a fucking five star hotel in comparison to the streets or the tiny rock-solid bed Mickey had been forced to sleep on in the joint.

 

“Here” Mickey was dragged out of his own thoughts by Jayme’s voice, and he looked down, taking the rolled up magazine that was being offered to him, following the abnormally tall man into his bedroom.

 

The flat cement walls were painted completely black in there, but the room didn’t appear all that dark thanks to the fact that there was a window placed in through the shorter wall - right next to the livingroom one, actually though there was the dividing wall in between. Most of the space in Jayme’s room was occupied by his large bed, the unmade covers styled with distressed prints of the british flag. Mickey easily passed his roommate, walking over to the other side of the bed where he had been pointing to. It took a second or so of looking around, but then Mickey found it - a little spider, probably not much bigger than the pad of his own thumb. It was sitting far down on the cement-wall, next to the black nightstand. Mickey easily rammed the magazine into the creature, ending its life and then straightening back up and turning around.

 

Jayme was still standing quite a few meters away from Mickey by the foot of the bed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was still dressed in that large hoodie and boxers, his skinny, tattoo covered legs almost looking as if they belonged on a chicken - it wasn’t to the point where his bones were popping out or anything, but still.

 

“You grew up in australia, man. Thought you had a bunch of crazy spiders and shit” Mickey spoke as he headed towards the bathroom door - why the fuck a small bathroom like this would need two doors, he wasn’t sure. Without turning the lights on, Mickey whacked the magazine on the edge of the toilet-seat and then flushed, getting rid of the spider completely. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, entering the bedroom once again.

 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like them, though” Jayme just shrugged a little bit, the hint of an amused smile on his lips as the men looked at each other, several meters still separating them. Mickey raised his eyebrows.

 

“You’re fucking seven feet tall, man, what’s that thing gonna do to you?” After staying up so late together last night, something felt as if it had shifted in between Jayme and Mickey, and Mickey couldn’t really put his finger on what it was. But he supposed that he felt a little bit more comfortable around him - they did sort of know each other now. As much as you could possibly know someone that you had met less than a week ago, that was. Bantering back and forth as if they had known each other for at least a couple of months didn’t feel awkward or strange - it was something that just happened. But seriously - how could Mickey not comment on the fact that someone who looked like Jayme - the abnormal height, the tattoo clad skin, the piercings, the blue, emo hair, the resting bitch-face - was seemingly terrified of a little spider?

 

“Six eight” Jayme’s only comeback was correcting his height - by a few fucking inches - making Mickey roll his eyes and head past him out into the main part of the apartment again, bringing his right hand up to his head and ruffling through the black strands, knowing that his hair probably looked like absolute shit right now.

 

“You can go back to sleep if you want - sorry I woke you up for that” At Jayme’s voice, Mickey turned around in the middle of the livingroom, facing his roommate while he shook his head a couple of times, shrugging a bit.

 

“Nah, man. S’cool. You got any more coffee?” As tired as Mickey had been when Jayme had first woken him up, he actually felt as if he had quite a bit of energy now - save for the headache that only seemed to grow heavier with every second that passed, most likely a result of his body begging for said coffee.

 

The next few minutes weren’t very eventful; neither of them really felt the need to say anything so the apartment was filled with a comfortable silence as Jayme headed into the kitchen, moving around a little bit as he started up the pot. Mickey sat down by the table, and since the taller man was standing with his back to him, he couldn’t really help it when he let his eyes run over his body - not in a sexual way or anything of the sort at all - he just looked, the sight making the frown on his face deepen just a tiny bit. After everything that Jayme had done for him, Mickey really didn’t like the thought of him not taking care of himself. Maybe it was strange since he hadn’t known this guy for even a week, but he supposed that it made sense in a way. A person like Jayme deserved to be happy and healthy, unlike somebody like himself.

 

Mickey and Jayme were both dragged out of their own heads by the sound of a phone ringing, the device vibrating on the flat cement of the bar counter. Mickey pretty much immediately recognized Jayme’s ringtone as an instrumental version of ‘bones exposed’ and he accepted the guy even a little bit more. Jayme answered it while the coffee dripped down into the pot, filling the kitchen with that special scent. Mickey drifted out of the room again, seeing no reason to eavesdrop as he gnawed on the inside of his bottom lip. His adams-apple bopped up and down and he pushed the purple sleeves up to his elbows before looking down at the letters tattooed across his knuckles. He sounded like a goddamn broken record even to himself, but now was one of those moments - the ones that made him feel like fucking shit. The scum of the earth.

 

It came at random moments, often with a heavy wash of guilt, because last night when he and Jayme had talked, he hadn’t really thought of Ian or home all that much. He had been in this livingroom with his roommate, listening to the older man’s voice and losing track of his own life for a minute. Then this morning, he had killed that spider, and he had almost chuckled at the fact that Jayme was scared of the tiny little thing. The problem with all of this was that Mickey didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to laugh, and he didn’t deserve to forget about all the shit he had put everybody through back home - how he had corrupted his former boyfriend. Mickey was the definition of a failure, and even he could see that. And failures didn’t deserve that shit.

 

Mickey swallowed, forcing himself to steer himself off of that thought track; not now. Deserving of it as he was, he could beat himself up tonight because nine am by the kitchen table in front of his roommate wasn’t the time.

 

“…You sure you have the time for it, yeah?” Jayme was saying when Mickey tuned his voice back in. He was standing in the kitchen, leaning onto the bar counter, his eyes seemingly mindlessly focused on the flat cement that it was made out of. Mickey didn’t hear the coffee maker anymore, so he got up and walked into the kitchen. His roommate had already taken two mugs out of the creaking cupboard, Mickey turned the black ceramic cups over, pouring some of the black liquid into both of them before putting the pot back into its place. “I can be there in uh - an hour? Two?”

 

Mickey walked over and placed one of them next to Jayme before continuing out of the kitchen again, sitting back down at the table and taking a big gulp of the hot coffee, feeling the energy seep back into his veins, his headache already subsiding just a little bit, his body thanking him for the caffeine. Jayme hung up the phone a minute or so later, placing it down onto the counter before he picked his coffee mug up, walking around the wall and sitting down on the other side of the table.

 

“You got classes or something?”

 

“Not today, no” Jayme said, taking a big swallow of his coffee. “I’m gonna go get one of my tattoos touched up” Mickey’s right hand was wrapped around the hot, black ceramic as he nodded once or twice in understanding, still just a little bit too much sleep trudging throughout his body for him to bother doing or saying anything else. Jayme had both of his hands around his cup, the heat seeping into his palms. The sun shone in from across the room, highlighting the color of his hair and making it look a little bit more greenish than it was really meant to. A lot of the messy, slept on strands had fallen out of the little bobble on top of his head, gathering at the back of his neck and a little bit around his face. “You can come with me, you want to?”

 

Mickey’s gaze had been focused down into the black liquid inside of his cup, mind drifting away for a moment once again, but now he looked up at Jayme, thinking it over. As cool as he would be with staying here alone while he left for a few hours, maybe it would feel kind of good to be outside - he hadn’t left this apartment since he had entered it, which was something that he was realizing only just now. Plus, watching Jayme get tattooed didn’t seem like the worst way to spend his day, despite the fact that Mickey didn’t have much himself, he had always been interested in ink and piercings and all that shit.

 

“Yeah, man. That sounds good”

 

  
***

 

  
About an hour after that, Mickey and Jayme were both dressed, getting ready to head out of the apartment. Jayme had his hair styled up into that whole cotton candy poof thing - it had taken a fuck of a lot longer than Mickey could have imagined, but to be honest he wasn't really in the place to complain about somebody spending too much time on their hair - he was guilty of having done it before. His skinny legs were covered by a pair of black skinny jeans, his regular pair of Dr. Martens safely laced up around his ankles. His long torso carried a black wife-beater, and with the black leather jacket on top, not one single item of clothing broke apart from the black color - then again, maybe that fucking hair was enough. Along with the colors of his soft bracelets that seemed to cover just about every single inch of his arms up to his elbow before the jacket sleeves took over.

 

Mickey had all of his own clothes on, save for his t shirt which had been swapped out to a larger one that originally belonged to Jayme - he had thrown it to the younger man and he hadn’t looked as if he was thinking anything of it. Mickey had to admit that though he of course did need clothes to wear - clothes he didn’t currently have with him - it was still strange to have somebody be this nice to him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew he should be grateful - and he was - but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t deserve any of it.

 

Their heavy steps echoed a little bit through the building as they both made their way down the stairs, Mickey trailing a step or so behind his roommate. His hands were deep inside of the pockets of his jacket, more of a habit than anything much else. Jayme’s left arm hung easily by his side, his right one bent to hold his skateboard in place. A comfortable silence sat between the two men for a minute or so as they exited the building, heading out onto the street again. The daylight stung Mickey’s eyes just a little bit, his body unused to the bare exposure after being inside for several days.

 

They walked beside each other for a bit, their steps easily falling into the same rhythm. The air still carried a little bit of that lightness that morning brought, but that quality would surely be gone in half an hour or so. Mickey hadn’t even stopped to think as he had picked his jacket off of the hook, but now he was starting to regret wearing it a little bit - it was a lot warmer than he had thought it would be. Which still wasn’t very because despite the burning sun, the wind was still going quite strong. The sound of wheels hitting pavement dragged Mickey out of his own head, and he looked down to his right, watching Jayme’s combat boot clad feet roll the skateboard along, though making sure not to go too fast so that Mickey would be able to keep up.

 

“You go to the same guy for all your ink?” Mickey was the one to break the comfortable silence in between them as they continued moving along the sidewalk, rows of old red and grey brick buildings on either side of them. The train continued bopping somewhere in the distance, and Mickey still found it calming, yet it was such a constant even up in Jayme’s apartment that he barely noticed it anymore. Jayme cleared his throat a little bit at the question, most likely because of the cold that was starting to bite his face and nose just a little bit - Mickey’s as well for that matter.

 

“Yeah, I do” Came the accent coated answer. “He’s Winnie’s cousin, remember I told you she had one, yeah?”

 

Both of them fell back into that comfortable silence after that, the sound of Mickey’s heavy steps mixing together with the loud noise of Jayme kicking his skateboard by his side, getting them closer to wherever this tattoo shop was located. Pretty soon, Mickey pulled his shoulders up a little bit, hiding the bottom half of his face in his jacket while they moved alone - it wasn’t all too cold, but slowly but surely they were starting to head towards the colder months, and the weather was surely starting to catch on, albeit way too early for Mickey’s liking.

 

  
***

 

  
About fifteen minutes after the men had left Jayme’s apartment building, he dead stopped his skateboard, forcing Mickey to do one as well. Without either of them really saying much, Jayme opened a skinny door in one of the cement colored brick buildings; once he was inside he turned around a little bit, holding it open so that Mickey could enter as well. The blue haired guy flashed Mickey his regular kind smile, letting the door go before turning back around and looking out over the place. Mickey did so as well - the building looked quite rundown from the outside, but inside it looked like a really high end tattoo studio; which honestly shouldn’t be that much of a surprise considering the fact the small amount of Jayme’s tattoos that Mickey had actually bothered looking closely at - he didn’t do it a lot, only when his eyes happened to fall onto the ink, like last night when he had been sitting on the floor with his hands curled around that coffee cup, Mickey had been able to look at the bouquet of lilies on his hand - anyway, they were all some of the most beautifully done tattoos that Mickey had ever seen, so it wasn’t that surprising that he went to a good place.

 

The studio looked quite cheerful, actually. Welcoming. The walls were painted white, windows placed here and there, providing the room with a natural light that Mickey could only imagine was good for artists to have. There were people working all over the place in what looked like their own personal sections, though they could all still see each other. Some overplayed Metallica song was escaping from the radio standing on a shelf behind the counter.

 

“Jayme, man. It’s so good to see you, where you been holding up, bro?” Mickey was pulled out of his own head by the sound of an accent quite a bit lighter than Jayme’s. He looked towards the sound, seeing a short guy - well, probably just under six feet but by now Mickey was used to seeing Jayme and everyone were short in comparison - taking a few long strides over to the tall man, their fists locking together as they engaged in a short bro-hug, the guy slapping Jayme’s back a time or two. Both of them had large, kind smiles on their faces as they separated and Mickey could tell that this had to be his friends cousin because of how comfortable they seemed to be around one another.

 

The guy had long, honey blonde hair than hung way past his shoulders in tight, tiny curls; his brown tinted skin just as littered with tattoos as Jayme’s was.

 

“It’s been a lot for a while you know, but um - I missed you, man” Jayme gave the guy’s bicep a friendly slap before turning towards Mickey, looking down at his roommate. “This is Andrew” The blue haired man nodded in the direction of the guy. “Winnie’s cousin. This is Mickey”

 

“We might as well call each other brothers by now, no?” Andrew said to Jayme, both of them laughing for a bit, the taller man nodding in agreement before Andrew turned to Mickey. “And just ‘Drew’s fine” The curly headed man said, reaching a hand forwards for Mickey to shake, and in a rare moment Mickey actually did. There was just something about Drew that immediately made him feel somewhat at ease - much like Jayme. Though of course this guy seemed a fuck of a lot more talkative than Jayme was, which was something Mickey would never be able to take in large doses. “New boyfriend?” Drew turned to Jayme then, and Mickey’s brows furrowed just a tiny bit in confusion.

 

“No” Jayme waved the tattoo artist off easily. “Mickey’s just a friend staying with me for a bit” Drew nodded in understanding. Mickey had to admit that he was kind of surprised that Jayme was gay - not that that was very fair seeing as probably nobody would look at Mickey and assume that he was. Then again, it didn’t change anything, all it did was rule out the possibility that Jayme would beat Mickey up if he ever found out that he was attracted to guys - which judging from Jayme’s personality this far into their friendship, had been less than a zero point one percent chance anyway.

 

So Mickey quite quickly forgot about it as it didn’t matter at all, and they both moved towards Drew’s section of the studio.

 

  
***

 

  
That night, once the darkness had since long fallen outside, both men were sitting in Jayme’s livingroom. A half-eaten pizza rested on the coffee table, along with several empty cans that had once upon a time contained root-beer. Mickey - of course - would have liked actual beer, but he got why Jayme couldn’t have it around, and honestly, the sugary beverage was starting to grow on him a little bit. The train bopped somewhere in the distance, the sound registering inside of Mickey’s brain, calming him down a little bit despite the fact that he was already quite so. He was sitting in the large, soft chair with his back facing the window as Jayme had the couch, both pairs of eyes focused on the old episode of family guy playing on the large television screen, the different pictures creating a flickering light over the room.

 

A large, band-aid like thing sat on the right side of Jayme’s chest, reaching up onto his neck and protecting the newly touched up tattoo from becoming dirty; it had been a few hours since he and Mickey had left Drew’s shop, so by now he could probably peel it off if he so wanted to, but he usually slept with it on, just in case.

 

“Hey um…” Mickey turned his head towards Jayme at the husky words, and Jayme had the remote in his hand, muting the television. “You’re not - I mean, you’re alright with me being gay, yeah? Because I just want to make sure” Mickey wasn’t all too sure why he was asking, but he supposed that he also understood the worry there - as comfortable as Mickey was with his sexuality himself, with how he grew up he would probably always have a little bit of that fear there that someday somebody wouldn’t like it and he would end up paying. So ultimately, he just raised his eyebrows, his head moving up and down a few times into a nod, watching as Jayme’s entire frame seemed to relax a little bit.

 

“I um…” Mickey wasn’t sure if it was the dimly lit livingroom, the comfort of Jayme’s presence or just the fact that he was ready, but the words were out of his mouth before he could overthink them. “I left Chicago because of a bad fucking breakup - and it wasn’t with a girl. Worst time of my fucking life” He spoke, swallowing as he reached for his half empty can of root-beer, then he sat back into the chair and looked at Jayme again. “We’re cool, man”

 

A strong frown settled on Jayme’s face, his eyes on Mickey. The air in the room seemed to shift a little bit; go from comfortable and relaxed to just… sad. Their eyes were on each others, and there wasn’t any tension at all, just… friendship.

 

“This really the worst time of your life?” Jayme’s dark voice asked while he leaned back a little bit more into the couch, bringing his right hand up to his hair, touching the blue cotton candy a little bit to make it more fluffy - that was probably also more of a habit than anything else. Mickey watched for a second, getting lost in the vibrant color while he thought out an answer that would be truthful. He wasn’t sure why he felt comfortable sharing things with Jayme even though he didn’t go very deep into all of the shit he was currently dealing with, and he didn’t know how in less than a week, Jayme had gone from some random annoying guy on the street to seemingly the only person that Mickey could even somewhat depend on. So in the end - Mickey could only tell the truth.

 

“I don’t fucking know, man. No home, no family, no job. Kind of seems like I’ve finally hit rock bottom, right?" Then there was a short beat, during which neither of them said anything. “Guess you make it all a little easier” Their eyes stayed connected from across the livingroom, Jayme simply blinking at his roommate. Mickey didn’t know whether admitting that had been a mistake or not, but it didn’t seem to shift much in between them. It was the truth. “You play at all?” Mickey asked then, in an attempt to lighten the air. Make it grow less sad. He didn’t like sad. He had had enough of that growing up.

 

Jayme looked confused for a second, so the brunet nodded towards the acoustic guitar that was leaning against the wall. It was crafted out of light wood, standing out against the dark grey cement wall where it rested.

 

“Uh, yeah. Whenever I have time” Jayme nodded, the room just about completely free of whatever dark shit they had somehow gotten themselves into talking about. “Not very good, though. Still figuring it all out” Mickey had been sitting quite slouched against the back of the soft chair, but now he straightened up a little bit, looking at his roommate.

 

“Let me hear something” Mickey had no idea what to expect, but the truth was that he desperately needed something that would distract him from thinking further about Ian or his life back in Chicago. Maybe he deserved to suffer, but that didn’t mean that he had to like doing so. Jayme did nothing but shrug, a smile on his face as he got up onto his knees, crawling along the couch to retrieve the instrument before he sank back down, crossing his legs into an indian position.

 

The natural smile stayed on his thin lips, his eyes focused down onto the strings. Mickey had his legs pulled up into the soft chair as he listened to the strumming, quite quickly realizing that it was one of the songs that Debbie used to blast all through the Gallagher house. It actually sounded really good considering the fact that Jayme had said he was just figuring things out. Then he started singing.

 

 _“Nice to meet you, where you been? I can show you incredible things”_ Mickey took a deep breath at the sound, unable not to appreciate the way the dark voice was hugging the pre-written words. Jayme was still looking down at his guitar, focused on playing the right chords while he continued singing with the music. _“Saw you there, and I thought - Oh my god. Look at that face. You look like my next mistake”_ The thin, tattooed fingers picked at the strings, and Mickey had to admit that though he did like the sound of Jayme’s talking voice, his singing was something else that he was quickly coming to appreciate. _"So hey, let's be friends. I'm dying to see how this one ends"_

 

Jayme continued strumming the guitar, singing and Mickey stayed seated in the soft chair, just watching. Not really listening to much of the words, he was more so focusing on the whole thing - the dimly lit livingroom, the sound of the train bopping in the distance, the flickering light of the muted television. Jayme’s music - everything. And Mickey realized that for the first time in months, he had somewhere of a life. He may not have a boyfriend, or brothers that seemed to care about him, but he had a friend. Maybe that was worth something.

 

As Jayme grew closer to the chorus, he looked up at Mickey, a large smile on his face while their eyes connected.

 

 _“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend”_ The words almost carried some kind of a chuckle with them, and just like that - there it was. Right on Mickey’s face. His first real smile in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not happy with this chapter at all, but today... has been a day. Guys, oh my god. The fact that I have anything to post at all is a miracle. <3
> 
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> [Listen to Jayme singing](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/post/143961979230/i-might-have-edited-this-to-make-it-sound-more)
> 
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> [{Come say hello because I'm very lonely}](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/)


	7. Back to Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as if everything around him was completely black. Mickey was so fucking lost. He just wanted to come home. That’s all. He just wanted to come home.

In between being woken up way too early to kill that fucking spider and then coming with his roommate to watch him get his tattoo touched up, Mickey had to admit that today had been one of the better days he had had in a long time - though that statement wasn’t saying all that much, to be honest. He hadn’t had that much time left over to think about things that made him less than happy. Like everything back home.

 

Though Mickey and Jayme weren’t that close, and probably wouldn’t even remain friends whenever Mickey moved out of this place - which was something that he really needed to start to figure out how to be able to do by the way - the guy was quite good at distracting Mickey. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it deliberately or not and to be honest it didn’t matter all that much.

 

Yet, ultimately - semi alright day aside - here Mickey was. Laying on the couch at three am, tossing and turning now and again, completely unable to go to sleep. Then again, by now he had pretty much given up on trying at all. His eyes were open, staring up into the darkness, his hands resting on his stomach as he blinked over and over again, his face blank, mind a fucking Picasso painting. Although not in a good way at all. His throat felt clogged, lips dry as he willed his heart to slow down just a little bit; this wasn’t who he wanted to be.

 

Mickey didn’t want to be the pathetic guy who laid awake nights regretting all of the mistakes he had made in the past, but somehow, at this point in his life - he was the very definition of that guy.

 

All cards on the table, he wasn’t all that sure what it was that haunted him the most - Ian, Mandy or even Yevgeny. Sure, maybe Mickey had failed them all, but it was more than that. Mickey had had one chance - one shot to be a good person. A person who took care of the people he loved, and a person who stood up for who he was and what he believed in. Somehow he had tanked it all, because at twenty years old - fuck, the law didn’t even technically allow him to drink yet - he was here.

 

Mickey had been in prison. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that that fact wouldn’t stick with him, he knew that it would. Milkovich or not. It hadn’t been all too bad, to be honest - well, it had been prison, so it hadn’t exactly been a vacation, but his point was that it wasn’t worse than you could imagine. The main thing that bothered him about that was that he could have avoided it quite easily. He could have found some kind of way to get back had Sammi that wouldn’t have landed his ass in a damn cell while the bitch walked the streets. He could have messed with her over and over again with small things instead of doing one big thing that would in the end do nothing but come back to bite him.

 

As he had grown up, Mickey had always made it a point not to regret anything he had done - whether it was busting someone’s kneecaps or stealing a fucking pack of gum - it wasn’t worth it. But the second that Mickey had fallen in love - the second that he had become unsure about who he was or what he was meant to do in life, somehow all of that had flown out the window.

 

Mickey had done a lot of mistakes in his life, but what bothered him above all else were the things that he wasn’t sure had been. He didn’t know if falling in love with Ian Gallagher had been the best thing he had ever gone through in his life - or if it was the biggest fucking misstep anybody had ever taken.

 

  
***

 

  
_“So that’s it? We’re over? Your dad beats the shit out of us, and um… just gonna get married, no conversation? Nothing?” Mickey swallowed, forcing his feet to keep moving over the ground as he hung onto every single one of Ian’s words, wishing that he could turn around the explain. Explain that he was fucking terrified and explain how much he loved Ian. Explain that he was doing this for them - for Ian. So that he would be safe._

 

_Like fucking hell he wanted to get married to that fucking whore, if anybody should know how much he was dreading it, it should be Ian. But Mickey also knew that he didn’t have a choice. The bitch was pregnant now, and she was claiming it was his - fuck if he knew, though; she was probably lying - so they were getting married. If he agreed to this, then maybe Terry would ease up enough that he and Ian would at least be able to keep going in secret._

 

_It hurt Mickey to hear Ian’s voice shaking as he spoke - of course it did. All he wanted right now was to turn around and press their lips together - maybe whisper that this was how it had to be. Assure Ian that he was who he wanted - not this Svetlana whore. But he couldn’t. So instead he kept his shoulders squared, hiding what he really felt on the inside._

 

_A hand was placed onto his shoulder, and out of reflex, Mickey turned around, immediately pushing his could-have-been boyfriend away from him, his heart practically stopping as they looked at each other, a couple of meters separating them. Ian took two steps, walking closer, but Mickey was faster._

 

_“The fuck off me” He cursed, pushing the younger man away from him once again, doing his absolute best to appear as if he felt nothing. As if he had never felt anything. As much as he would like to keep being with Ian, he knew that it wasn't smart, and it wasn’t safe. This was how it had to be. And Mickey knew that for him to be able to let go - Ian had to let go first. And Ian would only be able to let go if he believed that Mickey had let go._

 

_“What, you want a fag bash?” Ian asked, their eyes connecting. Mickey swallowed. “That make you feel like a man?” Mickey just stood there, his feet moving a little bit as he considered; as he tried to figure out how to get out of this - get out of this moment but more so how to get out of all of it. This fucking marriage thing, the baby shit. He wanted to know how to get out of being in love with Ian, and he wanted to know how to explain to him how he felt without actually having to explain it at all. “Come on” Ian said then, and Mickey took a deep breath, feeling the tears start to burn just a little bit. “Go ahead” Mickey shook his head a little bit, taking half a step back. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to hurt Ian. He didn’t want to hurt the one person who meant more to him than anything or anyone else in the entire world - whether he let himself admit it or not. “Do it!” Yet, there it was. Mickey’s clenched fist hit Ian’s stomach and the taller man went down._

 

_“Fuck” Mickey cursed to himself, turning around as he listened to the short, struggled breaths of Ian trying to recover where he sat on one knee on the ground, his arm folded over the soon-to-be bruise. Mickey walked a few more steps, fighting some more tears back while he ran an open hand over his mouth. He bent down, picking the bottle of whiskey up off of the ground, noticing that he had dropped it at some point during their fight. Ian remained on the ground for another little while, Mickey struggling to keep the tears in._

 

_This hurt him - he could literally feel some kind of animal clawing at his heart. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Ian - whether it was physically or not. But if that’s what it took to get him to believe that Mickey didn’t give a shit, and if that’s what it took to get them both to let go, then he would do it over and over again. Even if it hurt him too. It was for the best._

 

_The tall, abandoned buildings towered over their heads, the ground crunching beneath Mickey’s feet as he moved. He turned around again, looking down at Ian where he was on the ground still. It wasn’t many seconds before he looked away again, running a hand over his mouth as he took a few steps around him. He didn’t want to see him in pain - he couldn’t._

 

_“You love me” Mickey stilled at the words, his back turned to the person who spoke them. It was as if his very blood froze into ice, stopped moving throughout his veins. His heart stopped. No. Ian wasn’t saying this shit. Not right now; Mickey couldn’t handle it. “And you’re gay”_

 

_The half empty bottle of whiskey hung from Mickey’s hand as he swallowed, finally forcing his body to turn around to face Ian. His stomach was turning - not in the good way. Not in the way that it turned on the rare times that he would let Ian lace their fingers together after they had fucked, and not in the way that it turned when their lips touched. No; Mickey’s stomach was turning in a way that made him want to throw up. Because he knew that he was in the wrong; he knew that Ian didn’t deserve any of this shit at all. But he couldn’t do anything about it._

 

_So instead Mickey went on to completely kicking the shit out of the guy he loved, hoping that it would result in Ian hating his guts so that they could both move on._

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey listened to the train rolling outside of the run down apartment building, one lonely tear escaping his right eye, slowly rolling down his temple to hit the pillow beneath his head. He swallowed once, trying to get the large lump to disappear out of his throat, but it was no use. He had a lot of memories from being with Ian; a lot of them were good and a lot of them were just pure and unadulterated pain.

 

But that one? He had almost completely blocked that one out, because that had to be the one that stung the most. Maybe it didn’t make much sense - it didn’t have anything to do with Ian’s disorder, which was the one thing that had really run their relationship to the ground. Mickey guessed that that memory hurt the most, because that was the day that he had truly realized it - realized how much he loved Ian and how much Ian loved him back all the same. But Mickey hadn’t had the balls to say it, and he hadn’t had the balls to refuse to marry Svetlana.

 

So instead he had kicked the shit out of Ian, and unknowingly sent them both down the path that would lead them to where they were today. Broken and alone - one of them at least. Mickey hadn’t seen Ian in months. Not since that one day in the prison when everything had changed. The day that he had finally realized that Ian didn’t love him anymore. That the heart-wrenching love that he carried around for that man - while once returned - was not anymore.

 

Fuck, he could remember it so fucking well. The green eyes that had once been filled with youth and happiness, they had looked so pale and expressionless. The lips that had once touched his own before whispering sweet and undeserved nothings in his ear as they went to sleep - they had just mumbled ‘ _Svetlana paid me, so_ ’. At the time, everything had hurt so fucking bad that Mickey hadn’t known what to do other than try to keep that smile on his face. That smile that assured Ian that he loved him, because he did. Fuck, he did.

 

Mickey had loved Ian that day by the abandoned buildings, he had loved Ian that day in the prison and every single minute of every single day in between. And though right now, Mickey’s life had taken a turn that he didn’t know where the fuck it was going to get him; though he was quite certain that he and Ian would never ever be them again - maybe they would never even see each other again - Mickey still loved him. So fucking much.

 

The truth was that all he wanted to do was to be in Ian’s bed - he didn’t want to fuck. He just wanted to be there; hold Ian and be held right back. He wanted to whisper that he was so fucking sorry and he wanted Ian to whisper than it was all going to be okay. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of his neck and take a deep breath, feeling that one special scent fill his nose. The one that would always get him up to cloud nine to matter what. He wanted to feel Ian’s lips pressed against his forehead and he wanted to see long, pale and freckled fingers slipped in between his own as he felt that slight, comforting weight in his palm.

 

It was as if everything around him was completely black. Mickey was so fucking lost. He just wanted to come home. That’s all. He just wanted to come home.

 

The blue eyes fell closed, tears coating his eyelashes as he curled his hands into tight fists, bringing the blanket and part of his roommate’s sweatshirt with them, his knuckles turning white. After sharing such a tiny house with so many people his entire life, he now knew the art of crying without making any noise. He swallowed, once again attempting to get rid of that large lump in his throat, all the while knowing that it would be there for a long time.

 

That lump in his throat, that tearing on his heart, that pounding in his head - that was all there because his body didn’t know how to function without Ian. Things went up and down, of course - today Mickey had only thought about Ian a handful of times, which he supposed was moving forwards somehow. But what fucking use was taking one step forwards before jumping back ten?

 

Mickey clenched his eyes shut a little bit tighter, more and more tears starting to gather in his eyes, tearing themselves out and rolling down his temples before hitting the pillow with a slight sound that nobody but him would ever be able to hear. The train continued rolling outside, providing Mickey with some kind of rhythm in the night; otherwise the world was quiet. A little bit too quiet. His chest moved up and down once - big movements. Then he let his eyes slide back open; thanks to the tears, his vision was clouded but it didn’t matter all that much. The livingroom was too dark anyway.

 

The truth was that Mickey didn’t know how the fuck to do this. Sure, he could talk to Jayme. He could listen to him play his music and he could smile at how talented he was. Mickey could play around with the thought of somehow getting his own place, the thought of moving on with his life. Mickey could do a ton of things to distract himself from what was really wrong inside of him.

 

Distract himself from what drove the knife that stabbed his heart day in and day out. But no matter what he did - the night came. And with the night came the silence. With silence came the thoughts. With the thoughts came the truth, and with the truth came the pain. With the pain came the tears - and here Mickey was. His very being screaming for Ian to come back to him. Back in square one. Just like he would be tomorrow night, and the night after that.

 

Awake, stirring and crying. Hurting. Beating himself up because he should have done something differently. He should have been harder on Ian, or he should have eased up. He definitely should have been harder on his little sister, because he didn’t have any idea whether she was alive or dead at this point. The thought of Ian hurt Mickey - of course it did. But the thought of Mandy?

 

Mickey didn’t even allow himself to think about her much anymore. Mandy was more important to Mickey than Ian was - of fucking course she was - she was his baby sister. He had watched her being beaten and mistreated and he had done nothing. If he had to put his finger on the one thing that haunted him more than anything else - that was it.

 

  
***

 

  
_“Don’t fucking walk out of here!” Were the words that reached Mickey’s ears as he entered the Milkovich house, frowning a little bit while he took his jacket off of his body, throwing it over the couch._

 

_“That’s bullshit and you know it!”_

 

_“It’s not bullshit and you know it!” Mandy and Kenyatta’s screaming continued, their voices growing less muffled with both people entering the room; the sound was surely reaching the house next door at this point. Mickey swallowed, not really knowing what to do other than stand to the side and watch; it was all going by so fucking fast. Soon the large, black man had his little sister pinned up against the wall. “Aye, bitch - shut the fuck up!”_

 

_“Why, are you gonna hit me again?” Mickey’s mouth dried out, his hand instinctively reaching out for one of the empty glass bottles that stood on the table, getting ready to whack Kenyatta over to head to help Mandy, but before he could do anything; “Fucking hit me!” She ducked, the man’s fist ending up making a large hole in the wall. He turned around, swiping a bunch of glass and shit down from the kitchen counter, the crash loud, making Mandy visibly jump, covering herself a little bit before he made a one eighty once again, storming out towards the front door._

 

_“Get the fuck out of my way!” He screamed in Mickey’s face, making him flinch just a little bit as much as he tried not to._

 

_“Don’t fucking walk away, pussy!” Mandy passed her brother by a couple of steps, screaming after her boyfriend in a way that would surely hurt her throat._

 

_“Fuck you, bitch!”_

  
_“Asshole!” The door slammed behind Mandy’s asshole boyfriend, her beanie bopping a little bit on the back of her head as she sighed, standing still for a second or two, seemingly collecting herself enough to turn, looking up at her brother. Mickey swallowed; their eyes only connected for about a second or two, but it seemed to go on forever. She looked so little; broken. No makeup was on her face, a heavy black eye showing up around one of her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken in, just a tiny bit. Mickey could feel his heart tearing, his eyes burning just a little bit._

 

_Mandy didn’t deserve this shit; nobody did. Soon, she broke the eye contact and walked over to the mess of broken plates and glass on the floor and sat down, starting to clean up a little bit. Mickey turned, looking at her as she moved. He wished so fucking badly that he knew how to help her, what to say to make her feel better. But that wasn’t who he was, he didn’t have that skill of making people’s lives better no matter how much he would like to sometimes._

 

_“You forget to put the fucking toilet seat down?”_

 

_“Shut up, Mickey” Mandy said immediately, putting some pieces of a broken plate into the trashcan next to her. As he watched her, the sound coming from the next room registered in Mickey’s brain._

 

_“Fucking baby’s crying”_

 

_“_ Your _baby’s crying” Mandy reminded him while she continued cleaning up the mess Kenyatta had created on the kitchen floor, wishing that it would be just as easy to clean up the scars he had made on her skin. Mickey was silent for a second or two, trying to soothe the aching in his chest._

 

_“How long is he gonna keep it up for?” He asked then, knowing that nothing of what he was saying was helpful or even good, but he couldn’t come up with anything. What Kenyatta was doing to Mandy wasn't right, and it was terrible - ‘You don’t hit women. Ever’ Mickey had said to somebody at the alibi only an hour ago. He just didn’t know how the fuck to help her, at least not right this second and he wished so badly that he did._

 

_“Should fall asleep again in a minute” Mandy assured her brother, her voice shaking just a little bit as she put a few of the last pieces of plate and glass into the trashcan, the sound sad somehow. Mickey sighed, taking a few steps across the room and then back again, running a hand over his mouth._

 

_“Fuck” He sighed, the sound barely loud enough that he could hear it himself. His stomach was turning in the worst way possible, and he could feel his eyes start to sting just a little bit more. Maybe Mickey wasn’t the kind of person to say it out loud, but the truth was that his sister was one of the best people that he knew of, and it wasn’t right that she was being treated like this - she hadn’t done one single thing to deserve it. Before he had really made a conscious decision, the words were out of his mouth. “Jesus christ, Mandy. You don’t have to put up with this shit, you’re not fucking married to the guy” Mickey doubted that it was the right thing to say, but he didn’t know how the fuck else to bring it up. He needed his sister to know that she deserved more. That she was more._

 

_“It’s alright” Mickey frowned as he looked down at his broken baby sister where she was sitting on the floor, bruises over her skin, soul broken and heart crushed. She looked smaller now than ever, her voice sounding sad and high pitched, almost as if it was cracking despite the fact that she had only pushed two words past her lips. Mickey didn’t want this shit for her; he had done a lot of fucked up things in his life, and though none of the Milkovich’s were angels, he could flat out say that it hurt him to see her like this. To see her view herself as if she was nothing - she was so much more than that. “Not like there’s a line of guys waiting outside my door anyway”_

 

_Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed, his tears damn close to spilling over, his heart ripping apart. Fuck._

 

  
***

 

  
A deep sigh escaped Mickey’s lips at the memory; his tears had stopped by now but the wild animal inside of him continued to tear at his insides. He should have done something. He should have done something that day, and he should have made her feel appreciated every day before it. The truth was that Mickey hadn’t allowed himself to think of Mandy this much in… well, months.

 

It hurt way too badly. Instead he told himself that she was alright - that she had gotten rid of that asshole in one way or another. Mandy was strong - Mickey knew that. But he also knew what it was like to feel weak despite that fact. It didn’t do any good to lay here on his roommate’s couch in grief, and Mickey knew this too. But he just couldn’t fucking help it. Sometimes he just… he just really fucking missed his sister.

 

Mickey let his eyes fall closed, his hands still clutching the sweatshirt and the blanket, his knuckles surely turning white. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to lay awake nights, replaying every single crossroad in his life - every single time he had taken the wrong turn. He couldn’t do anything about any of that shit now anyway. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep, maybe he could feel just a little bit better in the morning. So that’s what he tried to do.

 

Mickey took another deep breath, moving around a little bit in an attempt to get more comfortable, but ultimately - within two minutes his eyes were open. It was as if he couldn’t get any kind of peace what so ever; as if his body was just too fucked up and in too much pain. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat all the while knowing that it wouldn’t work.

 

This had happened in the past - him not being able to sleep. Sometimes it was because of bad memories of Terry, and sometimes it was because he was worried about the future; though that wasn’t something that he would ever really end up voicing. The difference was that for the most part, on nights like this one - he would have somebody in bed with him. Almost every single time that he had gone through this in the past year, Ian would be there.

 

Mickey never had to explain anything to Ian, and back when they had been at the best point in their relationship - more in love than ever before and foolish enough to believe that they could possibly stay that way - Mickey had cried in front of Ian a few times, and Ian hadn’t made him feel weak for it. Whenever Mickey had nightmares about Terry - which he didn’t so much anymore, but he used to - Ian would just hold him in his arms, and he would press his lips against his temple, whispering that it was all going to be alright. That they were Ian and Mickey, and that together they would be able to get through anything.

 

Together.

 

“Fuck” Mickey’s whisper was quiet enough that he just barely heard it himself; his eyes fell closed as he took a deep breath, his tear ducts starting to sting a little bit. He remembered that, too. That morning when Ian had still been asleep and some clown had woken Mickey up, asking him if he was together with Ian. He had said yes. Together. His heart took another stab at the memory.

 

Mickey wished that tiny moments in time like that one didn’t stick with him as much as they seemed to. But whether it was their first kiss, the first time Mickey had called Ian his boyfriend - it didn’t make a difference. Because it all mattered anyway; so apparently Mickey’s brain made it a point to have it all branded in. He and Ian had been through so much shit together over the years - so many beatings, so many kisses, so many lazy mornings in bed, so many breakdowns, so many visits to juvie, so many visits to the doctors - all of it.

 

It all added up to a life. Mickey and Ian had shared a life together; and while to some degree they had both treated each other like shit, they had been in love. Really and truly in love.

 

Mickey had loved Ian in a way that he had never once thought possible before he felt it himself; he had been so fucking sure that they were going to be forever. No matter what they went through. He had loved him; loved him in a way that made it seem as if there should be a stronger word for it. And Ian had loved Mickey all the same - at least once upon a time… hadn’t he?

 

Mickey hated the thought, but lately - actually, ever since Ian had come home and announced that he had cheated on him - it had crossed Mickey’s mind that maybe he had never really loved him the way Mickey loved him. He was aware that Ian was sick, of course - and he would never blame him for that. But even before then… small moments, small interactions in between them that Mickey’s brain seemed intent on keeping for all eternity.

 

_“You coming back?”_   
_“Will you suck my dick whenever I want?”_

 

_“Fuck you. You don’t understand - “_   
_“Oh, I understand. I understand better than anybody that you’re afraid of your father, you’re afraid of your wife. You’re afraid to be who you are”_

 

Mickey swallowed, his eyes starting to dry out a little bit again as he looked up into the dark ceiling of Jayme’s livingroom. It wasn’t that he saw Ian as the bad guy in their relationship - he could never do that. He knew that Ian had stopped loving him the second that he had seen him inside of that prison, and after everything - he couldn’t blame him for that. Ian had all right to stop loving Mickey after all the shit Mickey had done. After how he had failed him. But looking back - maybe Ian had never really loved or understood Mickey in the same way that Mickey had loved and tried to understand him.

 

Maybe Mickey wasn’t the love of Ian’s life in the same way that Ian was the love of Mickey’s. And who could blame him?

 

Mickey forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing the tears back as he flipped over onto his side to face the back of the couch, deciding that he didn’t want to have to handle these kind of thoughts anymore. He couldn’t take it right now; this was enough. He just wanted some sleep.

 

That one voice still echoed through Mickey’s hazey mind. The one that sang; ‘ _Failure. Failure. You’re a fucking failure_ ’. But Mickey thought that maybe - just maybe - the volume was starting to decrease just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this chapter was boring for you guys or whatever? It felt quite important for me to do anyway, as we're starting to grow a little bit closer to the point when Mickey starts to realize his feelings for Jayme. I think he needs to figure himself out just a tad bit more before I get into all of that, but yes. I hope that this chapter was somewhat enjoyable anyway. Wishing you all a great day <3 
> 
> [{Come say hello because I’m very lonely}](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/)


	8. Arrow Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve suddenly got this… life and…” Winnie’s voice shook just the tiniest bit as her eyes became slightly more glossy, Jayme’s heart feeling as if it broke a little bit more with each syllable to escape her mouth. “You are all I’ve fucking got”

Mickey had his head tilted downwards, his eyes shut as the water poured - well, more like dripped - down over his bare body. His left arm hung loosely by his side, his right one crossed over his chest, the tips of his fingers resting in the groove of his collarbone as he breathed. It had been a few days since he had last showered at this point, so it felt good despite the rusty pipes and the lack of water pressure. His muscles weren’t aching so much anymore, for the most part they had healed from his days out on the street; but his body still seemed to thank him for the heat of the water because though he wasn’t really hurting physically, a shower had always kind of been a way for Mickey to relax.

 

On the rare occasions that he could, that was. A lot of the time as he had grown up, he had been forced to just be in and out since he shared that tiny fucking house with so many other people.

 

No matter how hard Mickey tried, it didn’t seem as if he would be able to shake Chicago any time soon. He would like to, of course. A part of him wanted to just find some cheap ass apartment around here that he could have for himself and then just move the fuck on with his life. The thought of the town that was supposed to be home blocked that possibility. The thought of Ian, and the thought of Yevgeny. The thought of Mandy and the thought of Svetlana. Because another part of him just wanted to pack his things up, thank Jayme for letting him crash and then just go back and get back to his regular life as if nothing had happened at all.

 

In this moment, Mickey didn’t have the balls to do any of that, though. And he wasn’t sure what would make him the happiest person in the end - that was most people’s goals, right? To become happy with their lives? To like who they were and to like what they were doing? Somehow that seemed like such a foreign concept to Mickey. He had never really been happy with his life, or with who he was. And he had never been unhappy with any of it. Since the day he was born, he had just been… Mickey Milkovich.

 

Just like Terry was Terry Milkovich and Iggy was Iggy Milkovich and Mandy was Mandy Milkovich - their names were like brands. Like the second somebody heard it, they either ran screaming or they had some other pre-perceived understanding about who they were and it left little to no possibility for them to figure out who they actually, truthfully were.

 

This was something that Mickey had just started to think a little bit about lately - well, since he had come out, actually. Like… what if he didn’t want to be that scary dude from the south side? Surely he was - in a lot of areas in his personality, and that wasn’t just because that was who he was supposed to be, it was who he was. But it wasn’t - just - who he was.

 

There were other parts to him, parts that he had just started to discover in the past couple of years or so. Mickey was emotional - though he found that the word weak or the word failure would suit him a lot better - and he wanted to take care of the people he loved, make sure that they had everything that they needed and that they were alright. Though, of course he had completely bonked that task. Fuck. He was so completely stuck. Mickey didn’t know what the fuck to do.

 

Granted, this apartment wasn’t a bad place to be stuck at. He had a shower, a warm place to sleep and a roommate that wasn’t half bad, but that didn’t mean that he could do this forever. He needed to figure out where to go and what to do and how to make up for all of the shit he had done back home.

 

But how was he supposed to do that exactly?

 

_‘Hey, Lana. I’m sorry I stuck you with the kid and no money.’ 'Hey, Mandy. I’m sorry I saw that you were being damn near murdered by your boyfriend and I did nothing’ ‘Hey, Ian. I’m sorry that I was so fucking hard on you. I’m sorry that I didn’t immediately get you the help that you needed, and I am sorry that I didn’t treat you the way that you wanted me to. I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder and I am so, so fucking sorry that I failed you. I’m sorry that the first time I told you that I loved you, it was over a voicemail. You deserve more. I am sorry that I have punched you, and I am sorry that I married Lana when I knew how much it hurt you. I am so sorry that I didn’t know how to handle your disorder, and I am sorry that I didn’t fight more for you. Oh, and I’m sorry I tried to murder your sister.’_

 

Yeah. Mickey thought that maybe it was best to save the apologies for another day.

 

He sighed, forcing himself to curl his hand around the knob to turn the water off, right as it was starting to run cold again. The pipes creaked a little bit as he did so, and then he brought his hand up to his head, running his fingers through his hair to keep the short, black strands from sticking to his forehead. Then he reached up to pull one of the towels down, wrapping it around his hips right as he stepped out of the shower.

 

As he stood in front of the mirror, he made himself take a deep breath, his collarbones poking out of his skin a little bit more than usual before he relaxed again, looking into the blue eyes ahead of him. ‘ _Take a look in the mirror, Mick_ ’ he remembered Mandy had said once or twice. ‘ _Sometimes it helps, you know? You like who you see?’_ He wasn’t sure why the words had stuck with him - it had surely been a few years since she had said it last; on the very rare occasions that he felt vulnerable and he actually wanted to talk to her about it. It had probably only happened once or twice in their entire lives because Mickey was just too fucking proud for that shit, and he was aware of that fact.

 

Mickey had always waved her off, too - what the fuck would looking in the mirror help him for? Now he got it. The man looking back at Mickey didn’t look like the strong, terrifying bully that he had been forced into becoming as he had been born. He didn’t look very angry, and he didn’t look like he had two or three years ago. Not at all. Instead, he looked… kind of sad.

 

The man had blue circles underneath his eyes, his lips dry to the point where it would probably hurt to smile. His skin looked pale - more so than it usually did. His shoulders were relaxed, hunched just a tiny, tiny bit forwards in a stance of vulnerability. No; Mickey didn’t look at all like he would like to. His eyes carried some kind of sad shine in them. Despite all of this, though - Mickey looked better than he felt, so at least that was something. He swallowed, rolling his shoulders back before raising his eyebrows just a little bit. There. Now he was closer to himself, even if it was just a little bit.

 

The shit that Mickey was currently going through in his life, it was kicking his ass - quite literally so. But maybe he would be able to get through it. Maybe he wouldn’t be stuck in this state of confusion and self-hatred forever. It was surely a long road from now, but maybe someday he would even be able to get rid of that voice in his head. The one that constantly reminded him that he was a failure. Maybe it would be gone someday - just maybe.

 

Mickey ran a hand over his face, shaking his head to himself as he tore his eyes away from the stranger in the mirror, quickly dropping the towel to pull his boxers back onto his body - which had been washed by now - along with his jeans and the white t shirt that hung loosely over his body. Then he picked the towel back up, running it over his wet hair and then hanging it back up over the shower curtain rod before exiting the bathroom, deciding to walk through Jayme’s room for no other reason other than the fact that he was saving a few steps when he didn’t have to go all the way around the kitchen to get to the livingroom.

 

Mickey lifted his left hand up to his face, rubbing some of the sleep out of his eyes which had still managed to remain despite the fact that he had both been up for an hour and taken a shower as well. To be honest, the past year, tired had kind of been a main quality in him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he actually felt as if he had enough energy in his body.

 

It wasn’t many seconds after he had stepped outside of the bathroom that he heard the light strumming of the acoustic guitar. Mickey had never been much of a music person, and especially not music that didn’t involve frantic drumming or angry bass but there was something kind of comforting about just hearing Jayme pick at the instrument with seemingly not all that much plan to it. He was sitting on the edge of the couch where Mickey usually rested his head at night.

 

One of his feet were planted onto the rug, his other leg crossed over it, and he was eased down quite a bit, his clothed shoulder blades resting against the back of the couch. His metal decorated fingers picked at the strings, the man seeming as if he was off in his own world somehow. Jayme’s skinny legs were wrapped up in a pair of his regular black skinny jeans, paired with a grey t shirt underneath the black leather jacket. His black beanie was sitting on the back of his head, most of the shock blue hair pulled back into it.

 

Mickey stayed in the doorway for only a second before he smelled the coffee coming from the kitchen, his body immediately begging him to go get some. His feet carried him over the cold cement floor, and he almost cursed at the fact that he had completely forgotten to put on socks - he had never once seen his roommate walk around without anything on his feet, and there was probably a reason for that, he realized now. Fucking freezing as shit.

 

Placed beside the coffee maker, was an empty cup turned upside down surely intended for Mickey, so he picked it up and poured some of the black liquid inside of the matte, blue ceramic. Then he turned back around and walked a few steps over to the opening between the kitchen and the livingroom.

 

“What you playing?” Mickey brought his coffee up to his lips as Jayme shrugged a little bit, a smile appearing on his lips while he looked up at his roommate - since the two of them had started to become a little bit more comfortable around each other, Mickey had begun to notice that that smile was one that Jayme had on his face very often. Probably a natural state of some sort in the same sense that frowning was Mickey’s.

 

“Just messing around” He looked back down at the guitar in his hands, picking up the pace just a little bit, his fingers picking at the strings easily enough. Mickey stayed still for a minute or so, taking another few swallows of his coffee before he started crossing the room to get over to the couch, his hand wrapped around the mug, the heat seeping into his palm.

 

Jayme continued playing mindlessly, pulling his legs a little bit closer to him for a second so that Mickey could be able to pass him and sit down at the other end of the couch. Some muted cartoon was playing on the large television, but it was some disney crap. Whatever the fuck happened to the original teenage mutant ninja turtles or whatever? That was some good shit, this was just bad - well, actually the new shows were pretty funny if you were high, but Mickey wasn’t and he had figured out that he couldn’t do any of that shit around Jayme, so that fact didn’t help him all that much right now.

 

“ _It’s a new dawn, it’s a new life. For me…_ ” The dark, morning rough voice started singing absentmindedly.

 

Mickey had his legs crossed into an indian position, his cup of coffee resting in his lap, his hand curled around it as he switched between looking at the television screen and watching his roommate play the guitar. It felt like an oddly normal morning - not just normal for Mickey, just… normal. Having a shower, having some coffee. Having a person next to you whether that be a sibling, a partner, a roommate, whatever. It all felt - well, like a morning that anyone could have. And at this point, Mickey kind of cherished these small moments that most people wouldn’t think twice about. He liked the normalcy of it all.

 

His cold feet were tucked underneath his legs while he brought his coffee up to his lips, taking a big swallow of the liquid before he brought his hand back down again, the bottom of the mug resting against his clothed leg. For the next few minutes, Mickey was completely alright. He didn’t think about Ian, and he didn’t worry about all the shit that he would eventually have to deal with back in Chicago.

 

He didn’t think about Mandy, Yevgeny or Svetlana and even if it was just for a short second, that echo inside of his hazey brain quieted down. Instead, he was just here. On the couch, watching the movements of the cartoon characters and listening to his roommate hum the tune to various different songs; some that he knew of and some that he didn’t.

 

For a minute - Mickey was allowed to be just a twenty year old guy. Nothing more and nothing less.

 

  
***

 

  
Jayme’s long, tattoo covered fingers fiddled a little bit with the black beanie on top of his head, making sure that it was sitting right as he walked into the room, heading towards the table by the window where she for some reason always insisted on sitting. Jayme understood why - growing up, they had both spent a lot of time outside. Messing around until their clothes were covered in grass stains, not a single care in the world. That couldn’t be further from who they were as adults. It was sad - that they had both somehow managed to fall this far - of course it was.

 

Now Whitney was locked up in prison, only seeing the outside of this place for a few hours a day, and Jayme was just… way too soaked up in college right now. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the country - or even grass, for that matter. They weren’t who they used to be, not at all.

 

“Hey, Win” Jayme made sure to keep his voice as steady and as smooth as he could, because the second that he laid eyes on the woman, he could see it. Usually, she would have this ghetto wall up; she could easily end up being perceived as a heinous bitch, or a fire starter or just plain and straight up rude. Not many people other than Jayme knew to look past that wall and past the things she said that were less than kind. That wall hadn’t only been there since she had gotten locked up in here, it had been around her for pretty much as long as Jayme could remember. Although, of course it was thinner around the person she had practically known since she was crawling, so it was also difficult for him to determine.

 

Anyway - the point was that today, she didn’t have it up. Not to that degree. Her black hair was let down into the natural waves, pulled to the side and over her left shoulder. Her cheeks looked a little bit further sunken in than they normally did.

 

Winnie’s eyes still carried some of that mean stubbornness - the one that only challenged people to come close to her. It was practiced, though. And Jayme could easily see that she was far from happy today - not that either of them had been genuinely happy in a long time. But he didn’t bring it up. He didn’t ask her what was wrong, and he didn’t say that she could talk to him about it. He didn’t have to. And he knew that she didn’t want him to.

 

Instead he just sat down in front of her, pulling another pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sliding it over the table towards his best friend.

 

“You’re always out, yeah?” A slight chuckle escaped Winnie’s lips as she wrapped her skinny, brown fingers around the item, her nails absentmindedly picking at the plastic as she looked up to meet his eyes, her teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Her large lips looked somewhat dry, her perfectly arched eyebrows quite expressionless.

 

“Thanks, Jaym” She spoke, silence settling in between them for a moment. It wasn’t awkward in any way shape or form, since they knew each other in and out. Some days they just didn’t feel the need to use words all that much. Jayme had a bit of an idea that this wasn’t one of those days, though. Winnie did need to talk, she was just figuring out how to explain what she was feeling. “Drew was here yesterday” She continued then, her best friend’s head moving up and down a time or so in assurance that he was listening. “Said you got some guy living with you now”

 

“Yeah, Mickey’s a friend. He needed some help” Jayme wasn’t all that comfortable telling anybody how exactly it had all gone down - not because he was embarrassed over it at all, but because he really didn’t see the point. Had somebody taken him in back when he would have needed it, he probably wouldn’t have been all that happy if that person had gone around telling their friends that he used to live on the street, and though he didn’t know Mickey all that well yet, he could only imagine that he felt somewhat the same about that subject. It just wasn’t necessary. ‘Mickey’s a friend’ technically wasn’t a lie either, they got along quite well so far.

 

“Friend? Are you bloody serious? This is me you’re talking to, yeah” Winnie’s british side started pushing through her australian accent like it often did when she got a little bit worked up, no matter if it was a good or a bad kind of worked up. Her perfectly raised eyebrows traveled further up her forehead as she waited for Jayme to say something back, but all he did was look at her with that one look. The one that said ‘ _That is enough_ ’. It was one she got quite a lot, because sometimes she could be, well… a lot. “So you aren’t shagging, then?” And she rarely accepted it.

 

“No” Jayme shrugged, somewhat of a bored look on his face, waiting for her smirk to settle down. He was well aware of the fact that when she acted up in this way and tried to push things out of people, it was best to give her the absolute minimum. He may love her, but enough was honestly enough. He also knew the reason why Winnie would ask - or even assume - that he and Mickey were having sex.

 

It was because Winnie had been locked up in here for damn near a year; at least that’s what it felt like. It was difficult to see a person change when you only saw them over a table a couple of times a week, but Jayme had changed. When Winnie had gotten arrested, he had been a complete mess. Drugs, alcohol and all of that stuff, of course. But he had also been a mess when it came to guys.

 

In fact, it had been incredibly rare that he had been friends with a guy without hooking up with them - Andrew of course being the exception since they were almost like brothers to each other. That being said, he wasn’t really that person anymore. He didn’t have that sick mentality that said that every single guy he passed was a potential fuck. It had taken him a lot of time and a lot of self-reflection to get him free of everything that had poisoned his life, but he had. And he had no intention of going back there. Or hooking up with Mickey; ever.

 

“Then do you at least think he’s hot, huh?” Winnie’s mouth was open, carrying a large grin as her tongue curled around the upper row of her pearly white teeth, her eyebrows moving up and down once in a suggestive motion. All Jayme did was sigh a little bit as he spun some of his rings around his fingers; he tried to shake his head no, but ultimately, he didn’t lie to Winnie. So instead;

 

“Win, let this one go. Now, ‘right?” A part of him was convinced that she was in an incredibly stubborn mood today and that she would just keep pushing and pushing, but instead her shoulders relaxed a little bit. Her face falling.

 

Then Jayme realized that she wasn’t really in one of her mischievous moods; she was just trying to seem as if she was the same old, bossy ass Winnie. Some kind of lump formed in Jayme’s throat, his face falling as well. She was just trying to distract herself. She was sad. He wished that he could give her a hug, but that was of course forbidden in this place, so instead all he could do was sit there and watch her brick wall crumble around her, even if it would just end up staying down for a second or two. Her eyes became a little bit glossy as she looked into his own - she wasn’t crying, there was just a slight hint of that kind of look to her and it made his heart hurt inside of his chest.

 

“Sorry. You’re a good guy. Guess that was a little bit out of order, yeah” Winnie’s voice was a little bit more quiet now, probably making sure that the other people in the large room wouldn’t hear her because there was nothing she hated more than showing herself weak. Or even human, for that matter. But right now, she just couldn’t really help it. And nobody was listening except for Jayme, so it wasn’t all that scary. Jayme’s large adams-apple bopped up and down a few times, waiting for her to continue. “I’m just kind of…”

 

She trailed off for a second, and her best friend did nothing but stay quiet, waiting for her to begin to say what she needed to get out. His hands were laying ahead of him on the table, much like Winnie’s. One of them were picking at their fingernails and one of them were spinning the metal rings around their tall fingers, the gloomy day having some kind of negative effect on both of them.

 

“You’ve suddenly got this… life and…” Winnie’s voice shook just the tiniest bit as her eyes became slightly more glossy, Jayme’s heart feeling as if it broke a little bit more with each syllable to escape her mouth. “You are all I’ve fucking got” The last word carried a sad chuckle with it.

 

“That’s not true, Win” Jayme wished that he would have been able to come up with something more, something better and something that would make her realize that she wasn’t a lost cause. He just didn’t have it right now. All he could possibly come up with was those four, lame words that they both knew were as close to a lie as Jayme would ever really let himself get with her.

 

It wasn’t a complete lie - she did have some other people around. Drew; and they had one or two distant friends left that weren’t completely fucked up and drugged out of their minds. But in the end, it was understandable why she would feel this way. And Jayme really wished that she didn’t have to be in here. She didn’t deserve it one tiny bit. Besides - he really fucking missed those late nights on the couch with horror movies and chinese food when they would end up joking around and laying on the floor, laughing until their stomachs cramped up. For now, that part of their lives was over.

 

“No?” Her voice was thick as she raised her eyebrows at him for a minute, her shoulders scrunching up and making her seem even tinier than she already was. “It kind of is” Jayme swallowed, watching her eyes grow a little bit shinier by the second, her nails continuing to scratch over each other; a habit she had picked up since she had been forced to go off the hard stuff, probably. She looked down, watching her long fingers as she collected herself somewhat. Her long, dark hair poured over her shoulder, some of it even reaching all the way down to the table, a few strands hanging somewhat in front of her face for a second as her head was tilted downwards. “I hate this place, Kinnie”

 

Jayme’s heart just about completely shattered at the nickname that hadn’t reached his ears in a long, long time. The play on his last name was something they had come up with one summer - Winnie and Kinnie. It was really fucking stupid, and she had only used it a couple of times since. Mostly as a joke, or when they were really fucking drunk. But it was for neither of those reasons right now, Jayme could tell. Winnie just felt vulnerable; maybe she was mourning their childhood somehow. Wondering how they had managed to get themselves this far into trouble. Winnie behind bars and Jayme with upper arms that he could wrap his hand around and then some. God knows he had spent his fair amount of nights awake. Wondering. Contemplating and just flat out thinking about where they had gone wrong.

 

“I really hate it” Winnie’s dark voice cracked on almost every single word that she spoke a minute of silence later, looking up at Jayme. He blinked, watching a tear roll down her cheek and feeling his own eyes start to burn a little bit at the sight. After almost twenty three years of knowing each other, he could probably count the times he had seen Winnie cry on two hands.

 

It just wasn’t something she did. It wasn’t her. So on the very rare occasions that there were tears rolling down her brown cheeks, it was difficult for him not to get pulled into that feeling. His throat clogged up as his fingers let go of his rings; resting flatly on the table ahead of him. Jayme wished so badly that he knew how to help her, how to make her see that things were going to be just fine. He just didn’t know what to say or what to do.

 

“All I can think about is…” She continued then, the occasional tear still rolling down her cheeks, Jayme struggling to keep his own from spilling over. Him crying would not make her feel any better, and he knew this all too well. “When I’m gonna get out, and then…”

 

Winnie shrugged, bringing her right hand up to her face and wiping a few of her tears away before letting it fall back down onto the table, her knuckles making a slight sound as they hit the surface. She swallowed, their sad eyes connected over the table. Her large lips were slightly parted, her eyebrows knitted together.

 

Jayme did nothing but sit there, trying not to cry while he waited for his best friend to finish her sentence. His fingers had begun spinning the rings around again, one or two tiny strands of the shock blue hair having slipped out of the beanie to hang down over his forehead. Jayme crying - much like Winnie crying - was an incredibly rare occurrence. Maybe once, twice a year, if that. No matter what he went through, he did his best to for the most part be a quite happy and positive person. But seeing someone he loved hurting - especially Winnie who never cried - it hurt him too. Pretty fucking badly.

 

She just sat there in front of him, not looking anywhere close to twenty five years old as she did her best to collect herself enough to say what she was thinking. She looked more like a terrified fourteen year old, her hair messy where it was spread out over the orange material, as she wiped away a few more of the tears that continued escaping her eyes. Jayme blinked at her, doing his best to swallow down the lump in his throat.

 

It was a quite foreign feeling for him these days - feeling so crushed or so vulnerable that there was water wanting to escape his eyes. All he could do was fight it, feeling his heart beat inside of his chest at a slow, sad pace. His tongue played with the little metal plates of his snake-bites as he waited. Then, almost an entire minute after Winnie had uttered her previous words, she wiped away another tear and she spoke the words that finally had the tear rolling down Jayme’s cheek.

 

“My life - it’s not gonna be any better”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this chapter was good enough for all of you, as always comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated and I'm wishing you all a great day! xo
> 
>  
> 
> [{Come say hello because I’m very lonely}](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/)


	9. Not Always Forward Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were small, flickering moments in his mind where he thought that maybe he could deserve something, too. That maybe he wasn’t as much of a failure as he thought, and that maybe - just fucking maybe - Ian had made a couple of mistakes in their relationship as well. But even if he had, Mickey was the common denominator. Yevgeny, Svetlana, Ian, Mandy. He ruined everybody he touched. That’s how he felt in this moment, at least.

_Mickey had his eyes focused on the mouth of the bottle of beer in his hands, his throat dry. For once Yevgeny was being quiet in his seat next to his dad, leaving Mickey alone with his thoughts and his worries. His fingers moved a little bit, nervously peeling off pieces of the label. Fuck. When did he become this person? When did he become the person who just sits at home and waits?_

 

_It was so fucking pathetic - he was pathetic. He should be out doing whatever the fuck, but instead he was at home in the Milkovich livingroom, waiting. Waiting around for his boyfriend as if he was a fucking wife or some shit. As if he was someone that he had promised himself he would never in his entire life let himself become. Then, the door finally opened and Mickey thought that his body could finally function again because as he looked up, in walked Ian._

 

_“Hey. You watching Yevgeny?” His easy going words reached Mickey’s ears while he walked over the floor and towards the kitchen as if it was nothing. As if he had been gone for an hour or some shit. Mickey swallowed, wishing that he could ignore it. Wishing that he could pretend as if none of this mattered - as if Ian could come and go as he pleased and Mickey wouldn’t worry. But after everything they had been through together - of course Mickey would worry when Ian was out for a long time._

 

_“Where you been?” Mickey asked, gaze once again focused on the bottle of beer in his hands, his spine for some reason feeling cold. He didn’t know how to do this - he didn’t know how to express how he was feeling without sounding like some bitch. Without sounding like a nagging wife or something. Of course Mickey wasn’t Ian’s keeper or some shit, he just… Ian was sick. Mickey knew that now. Ian was sick, and Mickey worried. Maybe that made him a pussy or some shit, but there was no dancing around that one._

 

_“Crazy night” Was all Ian said, a just barely detectable hint of amusement clouding his words as he reached the kitchen. Mickey’s stomach dropped, and he wished that he was stronger than this. That he wasn’t some weak bitch who couldn’t handle his boyfriend being away for a night - but he wasn’t. He didn’t like it, especially not when he had no idea where the fuck Ian had been or what he had done. Maybe it was healthy and maybe it wasn’t._

 

_Fuck if he knew._

 

_“That what you call leaving the club with some fairy while I wait around for you like a bitch, huh?” Mickey couldn’t help but show some of his annoyance as he stood up, placing the bottle of beer onto the coffee table before standing up and taking a few steps over. Ian ignored the question and instead took something out of his pocket, throwing it over to Mickey._

 

_“You’re welcome” Mickey’s eyebrows knitted together as he caught the small item in his hands, looking down at it. It took a second or so, but then he saw what it was. A bunch of rolled up bills. For some fucked up reason, his throat went even tighter at the sight, and he took the rubber-band off, looking to see how much it was._

 

_“Where did you get this?” He asked, looking up at Ian for a moment._

 

_“From the producer” Ian answered quickly enough, taking the cap off of a beer bottle of his own. “For the movie”_

 

_“What movie?” Mickey asked, his eyebrows still knitted together in some kind of confusion as he toyed with the bills, counting them all the while wondering how the fuck Ian could possibly come up with this kind of cash this quickly. Then he got his answer; an answer that quite literally made his blood run cold._

 

_“I did a porno” Mickey’s face fell at the words, his spine freezing. Then he slowly looked up, eyes connecting with Ian’s. Ian’s eyes that were once filled with love, affection and youth. Now they were filled with nothing but brutal indifference. The kind of indifference that made Mickey want to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry. Like a fucking girl. His throat went completely tight, and for a second, he was unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to think. All he could see was Ian, last night. Fucking someone else._

 

_Porno or not - it made Mickey want to throw up. Ian was supposed to be his, and he was supposed to be Ian’s. He fought the tears back with everything he had in him as he spoke the next words, his voice weak._

 

_“You did what?”_

 

_“Yeah, you said we needed the money” Ian’s lips carried a small smile upon them, his shoulders shrugging a little bit, his hands holding his beer in place while he leaned back against the stove. Mickey swallowed, wishing that he knew what the right thing to do in this situation could possibly be. Wishing that he knew how to handle this and how to help him. But he had no fucking idea how to do any of that. In fact, he was quite sure that his brain wasn’t even working properly at this point. He was just hurt._

 

_So fucking hurt. Betrayed._

 

_“Some queen told you he’d pay you to do a porno, and you thought ‘yeah, that’s a good idea’?”_

 

_“He said he’d only give me five hundred, but I talked him up to six, but…” Ian paused for a moment, taking a drink from the beer in his hand. Mickey had no fucking idea how to do this - how was he supposed to get Ian to understand, and how was he supposed to handle this shit? Not just in this moment, but all of it. He didn’t know how to do this, and he didn’t even know how to explain how he felt about all of it himself, so how? How was he supposed to somehow jam the truth into Ian’s skull? Mickey threw the money onto the table, taking half a step back. He was disgusted by the bills - he truly was. “Don’t worry, the guy I did the scene with said he was clean” Ian spoke then, completely calm as he placed his beer down onto the counter._

 

_“He didn't use a rubber?!” Mickey had to exclaim. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” As if shit couldn’t become any more fucked up, what even. Mickey had thought that the fucking suitcases had been the limit, or the days when Ian hadn’t been able to get out of bed - but this? This wasn’t… this was just… Mickey couldn’t fucking explain it, not even to himself._

 

_Was he jealous? Not really. Did he wish that Ian hadn’t fucked someone else? Sure, but that wasn’t what all of this was about. That wasn’t why his heart was breaking and that wasn’t why he felt as if he could easily crawl up in bed and bawl his eyes out for hours._

 

_There was something bigger here. The Ian standing in front of Mickey at this moment - that wasn’t the man that he had fallen in love with. This was a stranger. And Mickey didn’t know how to get the man he loved back. That’s all he wanted._

 

_“Relax, psycho” Ian laughed, taking a few steps closer to Mickey - who seemingly could do nothing at the moment other than back away._

 

_“You are out of your fucking - don’t touch me” Mickey’s voice was thick in a way that he had never really heard it before, his head shaking, feet taking him another few steps backwards as he watched Ian’s face fall._

 

_Silence filled the room for a few seconds. An uncomfortable silence; a silence that made Mickey’s skin form the worst kind of goosebumps, their eyes connecting. Ian’s lips were parted, just as Mickey’s and Mickey wished so badly that he knew how to explain this. How to make this shit better. He wished that he knew how to save Ian from all of this shit._

 

_“The fuck’s up with you?” Ian was finally the one to break the silence, his words only a few snaps above a whisper while he looked at his boyfriend, Mickey swallowing. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to say this. But he also knew that he didn’t have a single fucking choice at this point. He had to do this, and he had to do this now._

 

_“You need to pack your shit” Their eye contact broke - he couldn’t keep it; he couldn’t look into those eyes right now. His head shook lightly from side to side as he spoke, feeling the air in the room change as he backed away a little bit more. Mickey had no fucking idea if he was doing the right thing - he didn’t know anything. All he knew was that getting Ian some help was the one and only thing that he could come up with right now. Ian was anything but the man Mickey loved in this moment, so that had to mean that his family was right somehow - that he was sick. Really sick._

 

_Ian just stared blankly at him for a moment, and then his lips pulled up into a smile, a few chuckles escaping his mouth while he looked away for a second, and then back again, his face falling when he noticed that Mickey wasn’t joking._

 

_“What?”_

 

_“You’re sick” Mickey stated, hating the way his heart was stabbed at the words. “You need help. I gotta take you to a hospital, Ian” Ian’s head moved from side to side at the words, his feet backing away from the shorter man._

 

_“Fuck off…” The first words were just barely audible, then; “Fuck you” Ian backed away completely, heading towards the bedroom; before Mickey was really all that aware of what he was doing, he had chased after him and he had him pinned up against the wall, using only one hand. Ian’s face was settled into a stone-cold expression, his lips parted while he looked down._

 

_“You are going to the psych-ward, or a fucking ER - it’s up to you” Mickey spit in anger, knowing that this most likely wasn’t all that of a great way to go about all of this shit but he was out of ideas of anything else to do. Anger was something he knew how to do. He was good at it, too. “Either way, you’re going to a hospital. You hear me?” Mickey did his absolute best to keep his voice steady, to keep it from cracking or shaking._

 

_That happened anyway; his words may be fierce, but his voice was a lot weaker than he had ever really heard it as he held Ian pinned up against the wall, staring into his eyes to try to see whether his words registered in that thick brain or not. Mickey’s stomach was turning; how the fuck did they get here? Mickey watched as Ian’s face fell a little bit further, eyes growing sad. His head moved slowly up and down in a weak kind of nod, his gaze moving from Mickey’s eyes down to the tattooed hand that held over his heart._

 

_“I… I didn’t know how important this was to you” Ian’s words were weak; sad and if Mickey’s heart wasn’t already broken - the sound surely would have taken care of that._

 

_Mickey swallowed, hoping that the act would somehow manage to take away the lump in his throat when Ian reached for his hand, gently placing his own over it, those fucking sparks never failing to flutter throughout Mickey’s body no matter what fucked up situation they were in. His hand was carefully lifted off of Ian’s chest, and he backed away, staring up at Ian, blinking, forcing his tears to stay inside of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now - he couldn’t cry right now. He had been doing way too much of that shit lately._

 

_“So uh…” Ian took a few steps into the bathroom before turning around to look at his boyfriend. Mickey just stood there, his entire world crushed. “Let me take a shower, grab a few things”_

 

_After that, he headed out of Mickey’s sight and further into the house to do just that. Mickey was left alone, his entire world spinning in the worst possible way, making him sick to his stomach as he brought his hand up, running an open palm over his mouth as he felt some of the tears pushing through, coating his eyelashes. As he stood there, he could think of nothing to do other than just… try to hope that they would get through this._

 

_That he and Ian would somehow be that couple that went through all hell and came out the other side stronger. Mickey didn’t want this to be the end - he wanted Ian to get better. Not just for their relationship, but for himself. Ian was a good guy, and Mickey loved him so fucking much. With every single fiber of his being, he did._

 

_“Fuck” Mickey breathed, shaking his head a little bit before heading into the bedroom, his legs feeling weak. Not weak in the way that they did right after Ian had kissed him, or weak in the way that they did after a really fucking good orgasm. No - his knees had forgotten that they were knees and he barely made it over to the bed before he sank down onto the edge of it, terrified at what might be coming his way next._

 

_With shaky fingers, he lit up a cigarette, not knowing what else to do. His head was pounding, screaming in pain not much unlike his heart. He didn’t know how to do this. His thoughts were sounding like a fucking broken record at this point, but it was true - he didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to do any of this shit. How was he supposed to explain to Ian that he was only trying to help him?_

 

_That he was trying to make everything okay again? How was he supposed to explain that he was doing this - everything, really - for him? How was he supposed to express the fact that he loved that man more than anything else in his entire, pathetic fucking life and how was he supposed to make sure that Ian knew that he was nothing without him at this point?_

 

_Maybe it was pathetic, but Mickey loved Ian that much. He loved him enough to know that if they ever ended, he would be lost. It wasn’t healthy, but it was the truth. Which was why he wanted to help Ian be._

 

_“Fuck” Mickey cursed again, through a thick whisper. And with his lit cigarette pinched in between two of his fingers, he placed his hands over his eyes - and he cried._

 

  
***

 

  
“Ian! Ian! Ian, please… please come back to me” Mickey tossed and turned around on the couch, tear after tear pouring down his cheeks; he wasn’t technically awake yet, half of his brain still trapped inside of the dream that became more of a blur of sadness and heartbreak than an actual memory that was stored inside of him. His skin covered a thin layer of sweat as he continued thrashing a little bit, his mouth pouring out the name that carried so much meaning to him. The name that he loved so fucking much - the name that broke his heart. “Ian!”

 

“Mickey” Ian - Ian was there. In Mickey’s dream. He was calling his name back - wait, no. No. That wasn’t Ian’s voice. “Mickey” That voice was much darker, much more husky with a slight different pronunciation to the syllables. Mickey still couldn’t really be called awake, so he continued moving his arms, subconsciously trying to get rid of what was stuck inside of his brain. That smile. That hair. Those green fucking eyes, jesus.

 

“Ian” The name escaped his mouth once again. “Please don’t leave me”

 

“Mickey, wake up” Finally, Mickey’s brain registered what was actually going on, his body stopping its thrashing, the flow of his tears slowing down just a little bit as he took a deep breath, his tight throat struggling with that task. It took him a second or so before he collected the courage needed to let his eyes blink open. His chest was filled with dread, this was exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

 

Somebody hearing him call out for Ian in his sleep, it was just… not right. It felt too personal somehow. Mickey still felt a little bit groggy and tired from the dream, so he stayed laying down for a beat. That day - the one that his brain had replayed for him just a few minutes ago - that had to be one of the worst memories that Mickey had stored inside of his brain, because that day he had realized that Ian was sick.

 

Truly and horribly sick in the head. Which wasn’t his fault - of course. But Mickey had probably known about it for a while at that point, he just hadn’t let himself admit it until Ian had come home like that. He had broken Mickey’s heart, made it fall out of his chest and crash right there on the kitchen floor, but he hadn’t given a shit. Fuck, he probably hadn’t even realized it.

 

And now Mickey was stuck, playing it over and over again in his head because that was the day that they had crashed as well. Sometimes he wondered what he could have done differently, what he could have done to make them last and to keep Ian’s love for him somewhat alive the way he needed it to be. So far he hadn’t been able to come up with anything.

 

And lately, Mickey had started to think that… maybe the reason he hadn’t seemed to be able to keep Ian’s love for him alive no matter what he tried was because - it was never really there to begin with. That the need for Mickey had never burned in Ian’s chest in the same way that Mickey’s need for Ian had burned in his own.

 

“Mickey?” Jayme’s questioning tone pulled Mickey back to earth and out of his own head again, making him realize that he was still laying down, staring into nothing.

 

“Fuck. Sorry, man” The words were rough as Mickey shook his head a little bit from side to side to try to get rid of the heavy cloud of sadness around himself while he eased himself up to sit a little bit. Jayme’s hazel eyes stayed on him as he did so, his thin, perfectly shaped eyebrows a little bit drawn together as he worried about his roommate. Mickey still had a few tear streaks on his cheek, and he cleared his nose in an attempt to seem as if he hadn’t been crying although of course that task was an incredibly lost cause. “Didn’t mean to wake you again, just… sorry” Mickey wasn’t sure what else to say; his head was still all hazey from his dream, his thick eyebrows knitted together. “You can go back to bed, I’m fine” He assured his roommate then.

 

Jayme ignored Mickey’s last statement and instead straightened up a little bit, walking over to sit by his side. Mickey wasn’t looking, but he noticed when the couch cushion dipped a little bit, and for some reason it made him feel kind of safe.

 

That Jayme just decided to sit with him without Mickey having to tell him that that’s what he needed right now. It was fucked up; he didn’t even know this guy all too well yet but he supposed that it made some kind of sense in a way too. Wanting to have someone else next to you when you’re hurt, no matter who it is.

 

Mickey remembered that that’s what he had wanted that day in prison. The day before, Svetlana had been in and she had said that she would try to bring Ian in the day afterwards - so of course Mickey had walked around, looking forwards to that moment. Looking forwards to the second when Ian would be there on the other side of the glass and he would smile. And everything would be okay.

 

They would be okay. Of course there was no doubt now that that had been nothing but just stupid and wishful thinking on Mickey’s part. There was no okay for them, there was no going back. No matter how much the wild animal was clawing at Mickey’s insides, he knew that it would never get what it craved. He would never again be in Ian’s arms, and he would never again hear that beautiful voice whisper comforting, sweet nothings into his ear.

 

Since that day, ‘ _You’re so beautiful, Mick_ ’s and ‘ _I love you_ ’s had been replaced by another phrase - ‘ _Svetlana paid me, so…_ ’ Mickey almost wanted to laugh at how fucking foolish it had been of him to believe that somebody like Ian could possibly want somebody like him long-term. Ian was tall and broad and kind and he was going places in life, surely he was.

 

While Mickey… he was just Mickey.

 

There were small, flickering moments in his mind where he thought that maybe he could deserve something, too. That maybe he wasn’t as much of a failure as he thought, and that maybe - just fucking maybe - Ian had made a couple of mistakes in their relationship as well. But even if he had, Mickey was the common denominator. Yevgeny, Svetlana, Ian, Mandy. He ruined everybody he touched. That’s how he felt in this moment, at least.

 

“What?” Jayme asked a couple of minutes later; when Mickey let out one single chuckle, the bridge of his nose pinched in between his thumb and his forefinger, his head dipped and eyes closed. They sat like birds on a line, their feet planted onto the floor, Jayme’s head turned to look at his roommate. Mickey just shook his head again, collecting himself enough to speak.

 

“I feel like a fucking idiot” Mickey wasn’t all too sure where the true statement came from - why he had let it pass his lips, but the truth was that he didn’t feel all that bad about it. Maybe it was Jayme, or maybe it was the fact that it was surely close to two or three am at the moment - but just like the last time this had happened, it didn’t feel so bad sharing shit that he for some reason needed to get out, even if it wasn’t all that much.

 

“Truth is, I can’t tell you you’re not, mate. I don’t know any of the shit you did or didn’t do” Jayme spoke the words fast, though his pronunciation oddly enough made it easy for Mickey to hear the words. he was a little bit surprised, to be honest. Most people probably would have put a hand on his back and said ‘you’re not an idiot’. That would have been a lie, quite obviously.

 

Since Jayme was telling the truth - he only knew tiny bits and pieces of Mickey’s past. So somehow his answer made Mickey trust him a bit more than he already did. Clearly he wasn’t one of those people who would lie and lie just to make somebody feel better. Respect.

 

Mickey swallowed, straightening up just a little bit before he turned his head, their eyes casually connecting as Jayme shrugged his shoulders a little bit. He wasn’t wearing the large, black hoodie that he usually slept in - probably because this apartment hadn’t been as freezing in the past day or so, but the heat probably wouldn’t last for long - instead he had a dark grey, almost purple tinted muscle tee on, leaving his tiny, ink covered arms exposed. His hair was as usual tied up into that tiny bobble on top of his head, a bunch of blue strands of hair falling out of it all over the place.

 

“But I do still believe you’re a good person, yeah. So don’t go around apologizing for things that aren’t your fault” Jayme spoke then, at first listen referring to Mickey apologizing for waking him up but in the next few seconds, Mickey found himself wondering if he had said something in his sleep other than Ian’s name.

 

It was possible that he had said something along the lines of an apology, but he really did not want to find out. He didn’t want to re-live it, and he didn’t want to go through the humiliation of Jayme telling him - though somehow, he had a feeling that the guy would never hang it over his head or even mention it unless Mickey said he wanted to talk about it. He just seemed really fucking cool like that.

 

“How do you even do that shit?” Mickey found himself asking into the darkness then; he was looking ahead at the black television screen now. Nothing in between them felt currently awkward - in fact, Mickey couldn’t really remember a moment when things had felt tense with this guy.

 

They just clicked, somehow - got along, just like that. That being said, his stomach was still turning a little bit as the fact that he had woken up with Ian’s name on his lips once again. Not so much that Jayme had been there for it - though he would have preferred it if he hadn’t heard - but Mickey hadn’t had those dreams in a while. The ones that were so intense that he didn’t just wake up screaming, but he woke up screaming Ian’s name. It made him feel so fucking pathetic, even if it just happened when he was alone.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Just, fucking… talk” Mickey clarified with a tired chuckle, both of their voices dark and husky by now, dragged through a coating of sleep. “Know what the fuck to say” It was something that Mickey had thought about a couple of times - how everything that came out of Jayme’s mouth just sounded… right. Though Mickey had heard his curse quite a few times, it sounded… elegant? No, that wasn’t the right word. Fuck if Mickey knew how to explain it, but it was true.

 

And it didn’t only have to do with the accent, either. He turned his head to look at his roommate, who just shrugged a little bit, reaching a hand up to his head to brush a few of the blue strands away from his face. Then he rested his temple in the palm of his hand, swallowing before he started speaking his answer.

 

“I supposed that my father was always good with words, he taught me. The whole… ask first, shoot later thing.” Jayme trailed off for a second, shrugging his skinny shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s why. I’m not always, though” He admitted then, spinning the few rings around his fingers that he had left on for the night. Mickey looked down for a second, easily getting lost in the movements and the shapes of his tattoos while his mind spun a little bit.

 

“Our pops always told us to shoot and never fucking ask. And if they’re pole smokers, then make sure they suffer. That’s a fucking direct quote, by the way” Mickey had no fucking idea why he had shared that.

 

The whole Terry thing wasn’t something that he liked to think about anymore, much less talk about. But just like the last time they had ended up like this on the couch because of Mickey’s damn nightmares, he felt at ease. Being next to Jayme, he just felt… relaxed and calm. He knew that he wasn’t being judged.

 

“That must have been difficult for you”

 

“Yeah, no shit” Mickey spoke through a chuckle, his eyes focused down onto the dark carpet beneath his feet, his mouth pulled up into that bitter smile before he let it drop once again, his tongue running along his inner cheek as some sadness sank back into his veins. “Don’t wanna talk about it” He didn’t want to think about Terry, mostly because a lot of the shit that he had gone through with him, Ian had had a part in. Not as if any of it had been Ian’s fault, but he had been there for it. Ian was the reason why Mickey had come out and put his ass at the risk of getting killed for it. So when he thought of Terry, he thought of Ian. And he really did not want to think about Ian right now - he couldn’t.

 

“I have a couple of classes tomorrow morning, I’d need to go back to bed” Jayme’s low-pitched voice reached Mickey’s ears then. “You’re gonna be alright, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’mma be fine, man. Go” Mickey assured him, straightening his back a little bit in an attempt to pull himself together while he cleared his throat. Crying wasn’t gonna get him anywhere; he knew this. He couldn’t cry, not anymore and especially not right now. Jayme’s weight stayed on the cushion next to Mickey for another few seconds, making him look up to meet the eyes.

 

“You sure? You want a hug?” At that, Mickey let out another chuckle, his head shaking from side to side.

 

“Nah, man. I’m not a pussy, I don’t need to cry on your fucking shoulder” He spoke, clearing his throat once more. Silence hung in the hair for a beat or so, and then;

 

“I’ve cried on a lot of shoulders over the years” The words were delivered with a slight, somewhat childish push of Jayme’s knee against Mickey’s, both of their heads turned to the side, eyes connecting. “Doesn’t make you weak, Mickey. Sometimes it can just make you feel a little better” Jayme’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper at this point, the words easing something inside of Mickey.

 

Maybe Jayme wouldn’t see Mickey as a weak person if he hugged him, but Mickey was more worried about what he would think of himself. He had grown up believing that affection - no matter with who or what kind, even if it was to hug your sibling really quickly - was a sign of weakness. Despite this fact, before Mickey could overthink it any more, he reached forwards, his arms easily slipping around Jayme’s thin frame, his cheek resting against his prominent collarbone, the tip of his nose pressing lightly against his neck.

 

It didn’t take more than a short beat before he hug was returned, Jayme’s arms holding him there, just with enough pressure. He didn’t feel suffocated or trapped, but he put enough pressure on Mickey’s back that he felt safe. Mickey had never been the kind of guy to go around hugging people, but he was fucking exhausted. Exhausted tonight, and exhausted with his life. Just being held by another human being felt pretty fucking good. So good that he let his eyes slip closed for a second; he wanted to press his nose deeper into Jayme’s neck for some fucked up reason, but he kept himself from it.

 

Instead they just stayed like that for a few seconds, Mickey’s arms wrapped around Jayme and Jayme’s arms wrapped around Mickey, his cheek gently leaned against the black hair, his thumb just moving ever so slightly up and down in a comforting motion. It didn’t last for very long before Mickey pulled away, wiping a tear from his cheek, but he still felt so much better than he had before.

 

“Thanks” Mickey spoke, voice slightly thick as he wiped another tear from his face, looking down at his hand.

 

“Any time” Jayme’s voice sounded just as kind and genuine as it always did, then the couch cushion moved and he got up, passing Mickey and walking towards his bedroom. Mickey swallowed, trying his best to collect himself. “Mickey?”

 

Mickey had had his back turned to the kitchen and the bedroom, facing the window instead, but at the sound of his own name, he turned around to look at his roommate who had paused in the doorway, his incredibly tall frame almost reaching all the way up. Mickey didn’t say anything in response, but when Jayme had caught his attention, he continued, voice sounding just a tiny bit hesitant. As if he wasn’t sure if he would be stepping over some line or not.

 

“You know, I don’t know anything about you and your ex boyfriend. I don’t have any fucking idea what you did or what he did - but if whatever he did or said to you is the reason why you wake up screaming at night…” Jayme was just a little bit slouched forwards as he trailed off. The fingers of the hand that was resting on the doorframe in front of him lifted a little bit, a replacement for a shrug of his shoulders. “I think you could do a lot better”

 

With those words, he walked into his room and left Mickey’s head spinning. He stayed sitting up, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back against the back of the couch, his face settled into a frown as he thought everything over. The way Jayme spoke, it was almost as if… as if Mickey wanted to believe him. But then again, just as he had made clear, Jayme didn’t know anything about Ian. So maybe Mickey shouldn’t listen.

 

Despite this, though… on that couch, in the middle of the night with drying tears on his cheeks - that was when Mickey realized it for the very first time. That was the very first time that he realized that if he at some point in the future would end up considering… moving on from Ian - as betraying as it made him feel to even think about it - he didn’t see some random jackass without a face. All he could really see in the words ‘ _moving on_ ’ was blue hair and giant fucking giraffe legs.

 

As soon as the realization hit Mickey, he swallowed roughly, wanting to shake his head vigorously. No. No, that couldn’t happen right now. Him and his stupid fucking brain. No. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and he clenched his teeth together. As if his life wasn’t fucking complicated enough already.

 

Fuck, he was craving a cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys liked this chapter! Hearing from all of you is what keeps me motivated and keeps me updating, so feel free to leave a comment or [send me a message](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/) if you feel like it at all! I'm wishing you all an amazing day <3


	10. Your Place Safe (In My Bed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every single time that Mickey even let himself start to entertain the thought that maybe there was a slight possibility that he… that he had a fucking crush on his roommate, whether he hated that word or not - Ian. Ian was there. Ian was there inside of his head, whispering. Reminding Mickey of all of the terrible shit that he had done to him in the past, and reminding him why he didn’t deserve to love or be loved ever again.

Mickey gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, his dark eyebrows knitted together deep in thought, his gaze focused up into the grey cement ceiling of the apartment as he laid on the couch, surely at least an entire hour after he had first woken up out of his surprisingly deep sleep, though it had only lasted for an hour. Maybe two. The sun had since long risen outside of the large window, giving the open apartment a greeting light.

 

Mickey wasn’t hearing anything from Jayme, and he remembered him saying something about early morning classes, so he assumed that he had already left before Mickey had woken up. The entire place was very quiet, covered in a blanket of early morning silence and apparently the thoughts that Mickey had purposely forced back, deep into the darkest corners of his own brain, took said silence as an invitation to escape. An invitation to run around in the most conscious parts of his head again, confusing the fuck out of him.

 

The realization that had hit him last night was one of the scariest ones that Mickey had ever experienced, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do with it at all, really. Sure - Mickey would not at all go as far as to say he had some kind of a twisted crush on Jayme - he didn’t get ‘crushes’. He was Mickey Milkovich. However… maybe there was a part of Mickey that… that felt for him. Felt something for him.

 

Even if it was just a slight tinge of that something - it made Mickey feel like a terribly fucked up person. After everything that he had been through with Ian, after everything that he had done to Mandy, Yevgeny and even Svetlana - how the fuck was he supposed to allow himself this? How was he supposed to allow himself to feel? It made his head pound and it made his stomach turn and none of it was the good kind.

 

‘ _I think you could do a lot better_ ’. That’s what Jayme had said. Mickey knew that he surely wasn’t thinking of himself, and he obviously didn’t know about any of the shit that Mickey had done - he had even made that clear, himself.

 

Still - a small, tiny actually, part of Mickey kind of wanted to believe him. Believe that maybe he wasn’t a completely terrible person who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable. But as soon as Mickey slid into that thought-track, he immediately got thrown off of it again because then he remembered all of the times his fist had hit Ian’s nose and all of the hurtful things he had spit into his face in the past. He remembered Sammi because although he would never be able to feel about trying to kill her persay, he did feel bad that he had made Ian upset, along with probably most of the Gallaghers.

 

All in all - yes, maybe Ian had sometimes made mistakes in the life that they used to share but Mickey was the bad guy overall. He always was - not just with Ian, but with everyone and everything, even before they had met and fallen in love… Mickey ruined everything. Didn’t he? That’s what it fucking felt like.

 

The slight tinge of metal coated Mickey’s tongue, alerting him that he had been chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for way longer than he should have. A soft sigh escaped his nose and he shook his head a little bit, easing himself up to sit, closing his eyes as he turned to place his feet down onto the rug, his gaze not directly pointed into the sun anymore.

 

His eyes opened once again, settling onto his sock clad feet, his tongue swiping across the bit inside of his mouth to collect the last of the blood, hoping that no more would end up leaking out of the slit he had created with his teeth. He wished that he knew how to step off of this roller-coaster.

 

One minute he felt completely fine - like last night when a tiny part of him had even believed that maybe Jayme had been right - maybe Mickey deserved something. But then, like now, he fell back down flat onto his ass. He was reminded of all of the terrible shit he had done, and he almost wanted to laugh at himself because how the fuck did one person screw their life up this fucking royally? It didn’t make any sense.

 

Mickey dipped his head a little bit further, eyes closing for another minute while his forehead rested in his open palms, fingers pulling at the black strands of his hair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He couldn’t be dealing with this shit without some nicotine, holy fuck. He really needed a cigarette. Mickey swallowed, pushing himself up to stand, his fingers rubbing a little bit at his eyes, hoping to push some of the sleep away. He turned his head to his left to look, noticing that the door to Jayme’s bedroom was completely opened, the bed made.

 

So as he had assumed, he had left for campus already. Mickey’s somewhat heavy steps carried him over to the hooks right by the door and he started digging inside of the large pocket of his own jacket, hoping that he would be able to find what he was looking for. It took a second or two, but finally he found a couple of crumpled up dollar bills, almost wanting to sigh in relief.

 

It was enough for a pack of cigarettes, just about - a year or so back he probably would have just gone in and grabbed one without paying, and he could have done so now too. He surely would have, had he not found the money. But it just felt better paying somehow - who the fuck was he even turning into?

 

Mickey’s teeth went back to nibbling at the inside of his bottom lip, once again letting him taste his own blood for a second. Then he sighed, pressing the money back into the pocket of his jacket, deciding not to use it. He was south side for fucks sakes, he didn’t need to pay for a pack of smokes - if anything, maybe it would make him feel a little bit better to be back to his old self for a moment.

 

Jayme’s bleach purple sweatshirt was still sitting on Mickey’s body, hanging a little bit below his ass. No pants were currently sitting on his legs, so he walked over to the couch and grabbed his own jeans, quickly stepping into them; once he was fully dressed, he brought his right hand up to his mouth, running it over his mouth - something that he did quite a lot but wasn’t all that aware of himself.

 

Mickey’s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip, and as he took a few steps towards the front door, he noticed his roommate’s black beanie laying on the kitchen table. Without thinking all that much about it, he picked the item up and put it onto his own head, making sure that it was covering his ears enough along with most of his hair.

 

Then he put his old shoes on, grabbed the spare key that Jayme always left at home just in case Mickey would want to leave for a bit, and then he did just that. Mickey walked out and locked the door behind himself before the started the long walk down the massive amount of stairs, his steps echoing throughout the old stairwell. The sweatshirt hung loosely over his body, and he became aware of the fact that he should probably find a way to get some of his own clothing if he was going to be staying with Jayme for a long time ahead - which he wouldn’t, probably. But still.

 

Though Jayme didn’t seem to mind, despite his thin frame, his height made his clothes large enough that Mickey practically drowned in them - well, this sweatshirt and the couple of t shirts he had swiped in the past, at least. It wasn’t as if he borrowed more of his roommate’s clothing than what was desperately necessary.

 

As soon as Mickey put his hand on the door and pushed himself out onto the street, the cold started biting his cheeks as it always did - it wasn’t even all that close to winter yet, so he wasn’t sure why it had been so cold lately, but then again it was going towards that time of the year, so he supposed that maybe it did make some sort of sense.

 

The daylight burned Mickey’s eyes for a second or two as he started walking down the street; maybe spending all of his days inside of that apartment wasn’t the best idea despite the fact that he didn’t mind it. He should probably try to get out some more.

 

Mickey pushed the apartment key down into the front pocket of his jeans before reaching for the beanie on top of his head, adjusting it a little bit, making sure that it was sitting the way he would like it to. He had once been told that he looked scarier when he wore one of those things, and maybe that was what he wanted right now - subconsciously of course. Whether he admitted it or not, these past few months he had felt so fucking little and so fucking helpless. He hated it.

 

Mickey’s heavy steps continued carrying him closer to the convenience store that he and Jayme had walked past a few days back when he had come with his roommate to the tattoo parlour. He figured it was a safe bet for him to get a hold of a pack of smokes for himself. The wind was still just a little bit biting, and he cleared his throat, feeling his nose surely grow a little bit red with the weather. Fucking Illinois, man.

 

Right before Mickey entered the convenience store, he made sure to roll his shoulders back, turning his chin-music up, the way he walked becoming a fuck of a lot more intimidating as he pulled the door open and walked right up to the counter, curling his fist around a pack of the smokes. The middle-aged, mexican man behind the counter looked up from his magazine as Mickey turned back around with the drug in his hand.

 

“Hey, you have to pay for that” Mickey raised his eyebrows, much like he had done that time when some old queen had accused him and Ian of looking like a couple of fags for sale. Then he turned around again, stalking up to the counter and placing the package of smokes on the edge of it so that he could press his palms flat against the surface, bending over to get closer to the man in an incredibly indicating fashion. Mickey’s blood was rushing just ever so slightly - fuck, he had missed being the bully instead of the victim. Even if it was just something tiny and stupid like this.

 

“Is that right?” Mickey’s lips carried a smirk while his perfectly shaped eyebrows stayed raised, the guys’ face quickly falling. “Because the way I see it - you can go up against me and end up with a bloody nose, or you let me leave right now. Either way - you ain’t getting no money. You look like a smart guy, huh? Why don’t we do this my way?” The guy was silent for a beat, and Mickey had to admit that a tiny part of him hoped that he would continue fighting just so that he would have an excuse to break his fucking face - he had missed that too. Alas, he nodded a beat or so after Mickey had finished talking.

 

“Go. Just this time” The guy swallowed, looking down at the terrifying promise that was scribbled across Mickey’s knuckles.

 

“You’re a good man” Mickey grinned in a way that was sure to make a fucking tiger back up, reaching for one of the lighters before picking the package of smokes back up. Then he turned back around and started walking towards the exit. “Go back to work, home depot”

 

The door slammed behind him, and Mickey’s feet were once again out on the sidewalk, the wind biting the skin of his face just a little bit. The cigarettes and the lighter was inside of his hand, and he started walking a little bit, deciding not to light one up just yet. His body still felt a little bit shaky, his heart beating quite fast against his ribcage. Not because of the fact that he had just treated someone like that - intimidating people was practically just second nature to Mickey, it felt kind of good to be in control of something once again.

 

No, his heart was beating fast because now he didn’t have a mission anymore. Mickey was just walking down the street in the middle of fucking Rockford of all places, and he didn’t have anywhere to go. He had decided not to smoke inside of the apartment because he figured that it would get stuck in the walls and maybe that wouldn’t be the best thing since Jayme was clean from all forms of this shit.

 

It wasn’t scary to Mickey that he wasn’t sure where to go right now - he was more than fine with just walking around for a bit - the only problem he had with it was that it gave him so much excess time. Time to think. Back at the apartment he could get lost in shitty ass cartoons or some random conversation with his roommate, but now - save for the cars driving up and down the street every now and then - everything was quiet around him. So Mickey’s thoughts immediately floated back to the last thing that he wanted to dwell over right now. Ian. Well - Ian and Jayme, technically.

 

It was stupid as fuck, wasn’t it? It was stupid of Mickey to be feeling this way for Jayme - well, he wasn’t sure what it was he felt, really, he just knew that it was stupid. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and the smoke it created when his warm breath blended with the cold air in front of his face reminded him of the package of cigarettes he had in his hand. Mickey looked around for a bit, finding a bright and shallow alley in between two orange brick buildings; he walked into it, leaning against one of the walls for a break, taking the plastic off from around the packaging, picking one of the nicotine sticks out, lighting it up while he willed his hands to stop shaking. Jesus fuck.

 

As soon as he took the first drag, he could feel his very soul relax, his entire body slumping back against the wall, his head tilted backwards, eyes closing while he smoke escaped his nose. Fuck, he had missed this shit. How had he gone months without it? It didn’t make any sense. It burned just the right amount, warming his insides up, saving him from the freezing weather that was Illinois at the moment.

 

Mickey wished that he had an answer to all of the shit that was currently going on in his life - ‘boy troubles’ seemed a little bit melodramatic, but he supposed that that was pretty much exactly what he was dealing with at the moment.

 

Did he have a crush on Jayme? No. He didn’t. Not really… right? He wasn’t all that sure what the definition of a crush even was, but he pictured a thirteen year old school girl who giggled every time the boy said anything. It wasn’t as if Mickey did that - or stared at the guy for long periods of time, or got lost in his eyes or some shit, none of that. That being said - did Mickey feel… something? Something he couldn’t put a name on? Sure. Sure, he did.

 

Jayme was kind, and he was sweet and he was honest. Genuine. With that bright smile and the blue fucking cotton candy shit on top of his head, he didn’t exactly look horrible either. Quite the opposite.

 

Ian, though. Ian.

Every single time that Mickey even let himself start to entertain the thought that maybe there was a slight possibility that he… that he had a fucking crush on his roommate, whether he hated that word or not - Ian. Ian was there. Ian was there inside of his head, whispering. Reminding Mickey of all of the terrible shit that he had done to him in the past, and reminding him why he didn’t deserve to love or be loved ever again.

 

Mickey had screwed everything up. He had fucked up his own life, he had fucked up Ian’s, he had fucked up Svetlana’s and thereby he had fucked up Yevgeny’s. Mickey had fucked up Mandy’s by not helping her out of her relationship with that douchebag - to the point where he honestly couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t laying dead in a ditch somewhere. So how could Mickey possibly deserve something? How could he possibly deserve Jayme? How could he deserve anybody at all - even if it was just a casual friend? It didn’t make any sense.

 

On one hand, there was ‘ _I think you could do a lot better_ ’. But the dark voice blended together with ‘ _You’re not free_ ’, ‘ _Svetlana paid me, so…_ ’ and ‘ _Yeah_ ’. It all just… fucking screwed with Mickey’s head and before long, he was sitting on the ground, fighting his tears back as he forced way more nicotine down into his lungs than he probably should.

 

  
***

 

 

By the time Jayme’s apartment building came into Mickey’s field of vision once again, surely at least two or three hours had passed, and more than half of the cigarettes were gone. Mickey did feel a little bit better now, he felt more like himself with smoke on his breath and no tears in his eyes - they had dried up in the hour since he had stopped his sobbing. It was pathetic, really.

 

What did Mickey have to cry over? A fucking guy? The fact that he had met another guy that he might, maybe and possibly… like? First world problems right fucking there. From a distance, maybe Mickey’s life wasn’t terrible. But Mickey wasn’t standing in the distance to watch, he was in the middle of it all. In the middle of an absolute mess, chaos. Chaos that he had nobody but himself to blame for.

 

In front of the large door, Mickey stopped and adjusted the beanie on top of his head before looking down at the package of cigarettes in his hand, nibbling a little bit at the inside of his bottom lip once again.

 

It would be pretty easy to just keep them in the pocket of his jeans, making sure that his roommate would never see them - not because he would become pissed, Mickey honestly kind of doubted that - but because Jayme had done so much for him, the last thing he wanted was for him to be unable to resist. Had Mickey not already considered himself a failure, surely getting Jayme hooked on substance once again would take care of that and it wasn’t something that he was really all that willing to risk, even if it was just a fucking half empty pack of smokes.

 

So Mickey threw the carton down onto the ground and stepped on it, deciding that he could easily get a hold of another one whenever he was craving the smoke in his lungs once again. Then he cleared his throat and pulled the door open, walking inside and feeling the skin of his face thanking him for not putting it through more of that fucking wind. The sleeves of the really way too large sweatshirt hung a little bit below his hands, giving him sweater-paws so as his heavy steps carried him up the stairwell towards Jayme’s apartment again, he pushed them up to his elbows before letting his arms drop and hang casually by his sides again.

 

Once he was standing outside of the door, he fished the key out of his pocket but he pretty quickly noticed that none of the locks on the outside of the door were closed or locked, meaning that Jayme already had to be home. Mickey unlocked the one standard lock that was in fact done, and then he entered, immediately being greeted with a low - but surprisingly gigglish - loud laugh.

 

The dark eyebrows furrowed a little bit as Mickey toed his shoes off of his feet, pulling the black beanie off and taking a few steps further into the apartment. Jayme’s freakishly tall frame was laying on the floor, about halfway curled into the metal position as he laughed and laughed, his skin flushed red. He was probably crying, too.

 

“Wait, wait. Is this like one of those times when you’re laughing at some other shit and I just think you’re laughing at my joke?” Mickey’s attention was drawn to the tattooed man sitting on the couch, the tiny, honey blonde curls pulled up into a bun at the back of his head, several strands falling out of it. His mouth was pulled into a huge grin, quite obviously struggling not to join his sort-of-cousin in the laughing fit, though a chuckle escaped his lips every now and then. His hand was curled around a bottle of root beer, the brown color standing out against the salmon-orange color of the v neck that was hung over his body.

 

“No, no. Look - I’m fucking crying. It’s just… it’s so fucking lame” Mickey took a few steps to his right and dropped the beanie off at the table, biting his bottom lip to keep from joining in despite the fact that he literally had no fucking idea what was so funny. He looked down at his roommate, his eyebrows still furrowed though his mouth somewhat smiling - it was impossible to stay serious at the sound and the view.

 

Jayme was literally rolling around - well, laying at least - on the black carpet in front of the television, clutching his stomach as the dark, loud giggles fell out of his mouth, his long fucking giraffe legs bent, knees almost touching his stomach. Mickey stayed standing there for a while, watching Jayme laughing his ass off and Drew trying desperately to keep from it.

 

Then, after a minute or so, Mickey pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stop the roaring in his stomach that wanted to escape his body in the form of a chuckle. He turned around, walking the three or four steps around the cement divider to reach the fridge, grabbing a bottle of root-beer for himself before he walked over to the couch, his roommate starting to calm down a little bit.

 

Drew reached his hand up was Mickey passed him and their fingers brushed against each other in somewhat of a half assed high five, the gesture then going over into a light fist bump. The non-verbal greeting came naturally despite the fact that they had only met each other once before.

 

When Mickey sank down onto the couch next to the blonde man, Jayme had calmed down quite a bit and was sitting up, though the occasional chuckle still falling out of his lips. His legs were slightly bent in front of him, his long, skinny arms resting on them while he had his head dipped, obviously struggling to completely settle down after… well, after whatever the fuck that was.

 

One of his large, black muscle tees hung over his tiny frame, his legs clad in a pair of those light grey, really fucking distressed skinny jeans. A black, skinny hairtie sat wrapped around his wrist, the shock blue strands of hair falling all over the black in a completely unstyled, wavy mess that looked to be a million and one different shades of green and blue, but it could just be the sun that was beaming in through the large window.

 

“Anyone wanna tell me what the fuck that was just now?” Mickey asked, making sure to keep a teasing tickle to his voice as he pried the top off of his root-beer, putting the drink to his lips as he looked down at his roommate, amused blue eyes meeting Jayme’s red-washed ones for a second. His mouth was slightly open, quiet chuckles still escaping out through his square and perfectly shaped teeth. He shook his head a little bit at Mickey’s question, his head dipping a little bit as he looked down at the rug, a couple of more laughs falling out of his mouth before he finally seemed to collect himself.

 

“Nothing” Jayme shrugged, taking a deep breath. “Drew just fucking cracks me up, we haven’t hung out like this in a long time”

 

“Yes. We miss Winnie, but she’s locked up, so we settle for each other” Drew’s comment got another few chuckles out of Jayme’s mouth, his head moving up and down in an agreeing nod as he kept his gaze focused on the rug for another second, Mickey taking a big gulp of the root-beer in his hand.

 

“That’s… frighteningly true” Jayme ran a hand thought the shock blue strands on top of his head, starting to laugh once again, though this attack wasn’t nearly as loud or severe as the one Mickey had walked in on. Drew joined in, and though it was only a few chuckles - Mickey did too. He couldn’t really remember the last time he had laughed to be honest.

 

Mickey, Jayme and Drew all spent the next couple of hours on that couch - well, Jayme stayed on the floor - and they just talked. Not really going deep into anything - in fact, Mickey wasn’t really listening to the words per-say. But he was sitting on the couch in a somewhat crowded livingroom, his hand lazily curled around a bottle of beer - as close to it as he could around Jayme, at least - and it all felt surprisingly good. Normal. For an hour or so, Mickey was so busy chuckling and watching Drew and Jayme interact that he wasn’t even listening to that echo in his head.

 

  
***

 

  
Drew went home around nine. Mickey and Jayme said goodnight to each other around midnight. But as the clock slowly ticked closer and closer to two and three am, Mickey was still laying down on that fucking couch, his fingers resting on the soft sweatshirt material that was covering his chest. He hadn’t slept a single second - not one.

 

Fuck, he wasn’t even tired.

 

Instead he was completely still, and silent. Despite his mini-breakdown in that alley, he had actually had a completely alright day. It hadn’t been all that bad if he was being honest. But now Mickey was left back in silence and darkness, listening to himself blink. Listening to that old echo in the back of his head that was coming back now. The one that called him a failure. Over and over again, like a fucking beat of the heart. The echo that promised him that if he let himself believe that he could be happy - that maybe he even deserved to be happy - even for one second, he would pay.

 

Because after everything, how the fuck could he? Really? He had done so much shit in his life, and he was only twenty years old. Not just with Ian - but ever since he had said his first word or taken his first step. Mistake after mistake after mistake and he was tired. Tired of just… tired of living. Mickey wasn’t going to go slit his wrists or some shit because of it, he would make it through somehow - but yes - he was tired of living.

 

Mickey’s eyes fell shut at the thought, wanting nothing but to get some sleep, all the while knowing that he couldn’t. His thoughts were too loud and this couch was too hard and the darkness was too… dark. Plus, he was cold as fuck. He swallowed, attempting to wrap the sweatshirt and the blanket a little bit tighter around himself. Fucking cool ass cement apartment. It didn’t take many seconds, though, before Mickey threw the blanket off of himself again with an annoyed sigh, his eyes opening again, his teeth biting at the inside of his bottom lip.

 

There was one thing that he knew would probably help him. One thing that was really fucking stupid and reckless and would make him feel even more like a pussy and a failure than he already did. But he knew that it would help him fall asleep. It was a dumb idea - an idea that shouldn’t even be inside of Mickey’s head to begin with. But he was exhausted - exhausted at life and exhausted with this couch, and quite frankly, he was too exhausted to think straight. He needed to sleep, and if he did know something to help - then he couldn’t fight it.

 

So a second later, Mickey was on his feet, standing on the rug in front of the couch, his eyes wandering over the apartment. His legs were a little bit chilly, thanks to the fact that the only thing accompanying Jayme’s sweatshirt on his body was a pair of his own boxers. He swallowed thickly, running his right hand over his hair and then his feet moved. With soft, careful steps they carried him out of the livingroom and into his roommate’s bedroom, his stomach stirring with nervousness. He had his arms crossed over his chest, fingertips digging into his arms, his throat in a knot while he stopped at the side of his bed.

 

Jayme was sleeping, the covers pulled up all the way to his chin, the blue hair tied up into a tight bun on top of his head. Mickey couldn’t see much more than that in the silent darkness, but he looked as if he was in a deep kind of sleep, completely out of it. Which was why Mickey was surprised when his eyes fluttered open, looking up at him.

 

Mickey swallowed once again; his arms stayed crossed over his chest, shoulders lifted in a way that possibly conveyed some kind of vulnerability. He wasn’t sure, because he wasn’t faking it. As they looked at each other, he felt weak and vulnerable. It was the worst fucking feeling in the whole world. They stared at each other for another minute before Mickey brought his right hand up to his lips, thumbing the bottom one as the eye contact broke for a second, his teeth nibbling at the inside of his cheek. Fuck, this had been a stupid idea. But currently - thankfully - Mickey was too out of it and too exhausted to overthink it all even more.

 

“Can’t fucking sleep for shit, man” Mickey’s words were mumbled as his thumb was still by his lips, but Jayme heard them. The right metal stud that was punched through his own bottom lip moved a little bit as his tongue played with it in slight hesitation. It glimmered a little bit, catching some of the moonlight that was slipping in through the cracks in the black blinds.

 

“Come here” Jayme’s dark voice finally said then, their eye contact never breaking as he eased himself more towards the middle of the bed to give Mickey some space, his large hand slipping out of the long sleeves of the black sweatshirt as he lifted the covers up, inviting his roommate to lay down in the warm, welcoming embrace. Had Mickey allowed himself, he probably would have been standing there for hours, contemplating and trying to figure out what was the right and the best thing to do. But he didn’t - allow himself to over think this shit, that was. Instead he just nodded, placing his right knee onto the bed and climbing in.

 

Mickey ended up on his right side, head resting on one of the pillows as he faced the window. It felt pretty fucking good to be in a real bed for the first time in - literally - months. It was so fucking soft and so warm.

 

Then a long, skinny arm was placed around his clothed waist, and Mickey’s eyes fell closed as Jayme pressed his chest close to Mickey’s back, spooning him tightly. His nose ended up being somewhat buried in the short, black hair, his breaths fanning Mickey’s skin and making goosebumps appear all over him. His mouth went dry for a moment as Jayme stilled, seemingly falling back into a very content sleep.

 

Mickey probably should have pushed him off - fuck, he shouldn’t even have gone into his room to begin with. But right now, he was too fucking tired. He was tired from being awake for so long, he was tired of his life and he was tired of fighting simple moments like this one. Moments that made him feel better, even if it was just for a second. Did that make him weak? Possibly. Did it make him a pussy? Probably.

 

But that night, Mickey was too fucking tired. So he spent it wrapped up in Jayme’s arms and he couldn’t for the life of him remember the last time he had felt so at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fc for Andrew is Deandre Brackensick, by the way! And for Winnie it's Lenora Crichlow (Sugar Rush/Being Human era)
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are sticking with this despite the fact that it's not focused on Ian and Mickey (though Ian will be a part of it eventually). I can't even explain how much it means to me. If you want to see manips or whatever, then I have a [tag](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/tagged/jickey) on my blog. And I have been talking to a couple of you recently, so if you want to join in - if you have any questions or theories, then I am always more than happy to ramble on about this fic lmao, just send me an ask! 
> 
> As always, I'm wishing you all an amazing day! <3


	11. Cry If I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Mickey… let himself feel for Jayme, or if he let himself kiss him - which was a highly, highly, highly improbable scenario the way Mickey saw it… well then that would be it, right? Mickey would be walking away from Ian. Leaving him behind. Sure, Ian had walked away from Mickey a long time ago, but it was still scary - Mickey doing so too. Admitting complete and utter defeat with no possibility of turning back, and… oh, fuck he needed to throw up again.

Mickey’s lips parted a little bit, his mouth feeling too dry as he slowly started to slip into the land of the living again; the land of the morning. Though his eyes weren’t even open yet, he quite quickly noticed that he wasn’t struggling with the sun beaming in through the large window of the livingroom as he normally did these days. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed as his eyes blinked open, a small and still somewhat asleep part of him wondering if it was just really fucking dreary outside today or some shit.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

Because Mickey soon noticed that he wasn’t laying on his back as he always did, but instead on his side, and yet he was facing the window. A window covered by black blinds, just a few streams of the sun seeping through and creating a couple of lines on his face. Mickey’s brain and body were both still quite tired and sleep-deprived so it took almost five more seconds before he remembered where he was and what he had done last night. Almost five more seconds before he registered the weight that was still tightly pressed against his clothed back; the arm that was tucked around his waist. Fuck.

 

Mickey swallowed, suddenly wide awake as he tried to get rid of the lump in his throat. Fuck, that shouldn’t have happened. Spooning - fucking cuddling - with Jayme? With someone who wasn’t Ian? Ian was the only person that Mickey had ever spooned with in his entire fucking life - with the exception of his sister a couple of times back when they had been younger. It just… it sounded wrong. And it felt wrong. Right? It felt wrong.

 

Maybe Jayme’s arm actually didn’t feel wrong around his waist, but the concept of it. Mickey felt as if… he felt as if he was cheating on Ian. Yes, he knew that that wasn’t the case and that technically he was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted. But… he couldn’t shake it. He felt… ashamed. That he had sunk low enough that he climbed into bed with his roommate just because he couldn’t sleep.

 

Mickey forced himself to swallow once more, hoping that it would help to ease his thick throat. It didn’t. Jayme was holding onto him quite tightly, and if Mickey wasn’t mistaken, his face was buried deep in the crook of his neck, the soft and even breaths hitting his skin a few times a minute. Something was tickling the skin right behind Mickey’s ear, and it couldn’t be anything but blue strands of hair.

 

A couple of metal bumps also laid against his neck, and it had to be his roommate’s piercings, letting Mickey know exactly were he was. Where his lips were. Jesus fuck, what had Mickey been thinking? Having a slight and surely quickly passing crush wasn’t alright, but it wasn’t anything he could help - this? Was there a bridge nearby that he could go ahead and jump off of or some shit?

 

Mickey sighed as deeply as he could without waking the other guy up, and then his eyes stuck to something that quite literally made his blood run cold. Jayme’s arm was wrapped around his waist, yes, but his hand wasn’t resting on the mattress or some shit. Mickey swallowed, struggling to force himself to breathe as he looked down, watching how the large and slender, tattoo covered hand was softly cupped over his own.

 

They were both wearing sweatshirts that were too large for them, so the sleeves reached down to their knuckles, Jayme’s black one pressed against the bleach purple one that Mickey was still wearing.

 

Their fingers were slipped in between each other’s ever so slightly, and something strange happened inside of Mickey’s chest. It was like a stab, a sharp pain - only… he couldn’t decide if it was a good pain or a bad one. Jesus fuck, he was craving a bottle of Jack right now. This was wrong. All of it. So fucking wrong. Mickey shouldn’t be in this fucking apartment to begin with, he certainly shouldn’t be in Jayme’s fucking bed - and he should not feel more safe than he ever had in his entire life.

 

Mickey swallowed once again, wishing that he knew how to get rid of the lump in his throat. Wishing that he knew how to get rid of the way in which his stomach was turning. His eyes fell closed for a second, and he moved his shoulders a tiny bit, just checking if it would make the man behind him wake up at all and let him go. Instead it had the opposite effect, and the arm around his waist tightened as Jayme continued sleeping soundly, his fingers slipping even more in between Mickey’s own, his face being buried even deeper in the crook of his neck, a deep and unaware sigh warming his skin.

 

_Fuck._

 

Mickey wanted to say the word out loud, but he also didn’t want to risk waking Jayme up like that. His eyes stayed closed for another second, his teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. How was he supposed to get out of this shit?

 

Finally, Mickey let his eyes open up again and he moved some more, straightening his hand out. Jayme’s frame stayed curled around his with quite a lot of pressure; most likely it was a reflex to hold onto something or someone in his sleep. But finally, after almost an entire minute of wiggling and trying to get out of the hold without waking the older man up, Mickey succeeded. He swallowed, placing his legs over the side of the high bed, his feet just barely touching the floor. For a second, he just sat there. His hands firmly planted on the mattress on either side of his own body, his eyes focused on the tiny lines of the outside world that he could see through the blinds. His chest moved up and down once - big movements - as he sighed.

 

Then he turned his head to look down at his still fast asleep roommate. Jayme was laying on his stomach now, one of the large pillows having replaced Mickey in his arms. His head was turned towards the window, giving the shorter man quite a good view of his face. Mickey couldn’t remember if he had had that small, ridiculous bun on top of his head when they had both gone to sleep last night, but now he didn’t, regardless. Instead the blue-green strands were spread out all over the place, some of them covering his face which carried a relaxed expression, the studs below his bottom lip glimmering a little bit in the small lines of morning sun slipping into the room.

 

Jayme looked… so at peace. And so little. Young. Almost as if he was fifteen, not twenty five.

 

A couple of Mickey’s fingers twitched, wondering what that hair would feel like against his palm. At that realization, Mickey immediately stood up and shook his head to himself as he stalked out of the room with long steps. He couldn’t. Nothing about this shit made any sense. Starting with the day they had met. Who fucking picked up a homeless guy in the side of the street anyway?

 

Mickey came to a stop in the middle of the apartment, right in-between where the kitchen stopped and the livingroom begun. There he stood, the morning sun beaming in through the window as he brought both of his hands up to his face, running them over his features and hoping that they would drag some of the shame and the guilt with them.

 

Mickey didn’t know how to handle this - he was just barely out of his relationship with Ian, and he had just gotten out of prison. If there was a completely horrible time to meet someone that he might, somehow… at some point develop feelings for - this was certainly it. Not to mention all the shit that Jayme would be forced to go through if anything ever did happen between them - which it wouldn’t, obviously. It wouldn’t. Mickey had a lot of fucking baggage. Baggage that he was best off carrying all by himself.

 

Did Mickey have any sort of feelings for Jayme, though? Or did he not? That was what was the most confusing of all - he had no fucking idea. He had never had any guy friends - not really, not like this. Nobody that he just hung out with and ate pizza and watched cartoons. Growing up, he had had his brothers, his sister and then Ian as his boyfriend. Friends had never really been Mickey’s thing which was why he wasn’t sure how to interpret anything. Not really. What he labeled as some sort of twisted crush might as well just be casual affection for a good friend. How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to find out?

 

Jesus fucking christ. Crashing with Jayme for a couple of weeks had sounded like a good idea to begin with - it was supposed to give Mickey a break, a way to straighten himself out and get his life back on track. But now, his life was more fucked up than it ever had been in the past. He still had all of the old shit to deal with; Ian, Svetlana, Yevgeny, Mandy - everything and everyone. Only now he had the added burden of everything with Jayme. Not that Jayme was a burden persay, he actually sort of made Mickey happier in a lot of ways - but… fuck, Mickey’s mind was spinning in circles, he couldn’t do this shit. He needed to get out of here.

 

A deep sigh slipped out of Mickey’s nose and his tongue darted out, swiping across his chapped bottom lip while he walked over to the couch and picked his jeans up, stepping into them and tugging them over his boxers, leaving him at least dressed enough to leave the apartment. The spare-key to the apartment was laying on the kitchen table, and Mickey picked that up as well, since he wasn’t sure whether his roommate would need to go into campus when he woke up or not.

 

Once he had the piece of metal in his hand, he stopped again, bringing his right hand up to his mouth to thumb his bottom lip in thought. Where was he going? Maybe he should just make some coffee or something, try to calm down.

 

But then he remembered ‘ _I think you could do a lot better_ ’ and he remembered the way Jayme’s arm had been so tightly wound around his waist. He remembered the way his breaths had fanned his neck, and he realized that he truly needed to get the fuck out of here right now. It was all too much to deal with. He needed air. A lot of it.

 

So he swallowed, heading towards the front door. Once he had his boots on, he unlocked it and he stepped out, letting it fall closed behind him, feeling as if he could finally breathe a little bit easier.

 

  
***

 

  
_Mickey’s steps echoed just a little bit against the old wooden floors, his shoulders were pulled forwards. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing here, but for some fucked up reason, mini-red’s words had become glued, staying stuck inside of his brain. ‘You can’t drink him away, Mickey. It won’t work’. That’s what she had said._

 

_And truth be told, he hadn’t actually understood that that was quite obviously what he was trying to do. Drink him away. Today, though - or ever since Ian had gotten sick to begin with, if he was being honest - he had just felt kind of confused. Ian just… he wasn’t the same happy go lucky guy that Mickey had started everything up with. That didn’t mean that Mickey didn’t love him anymore - he did. Of course he fucking did._

 

_Despite the fact that he wasn’t really sure how and when he should say it, or really how to show it - Mickey was in love with Ian and he wanted him to feel better. To get better. Not just for Mickey or for their relationship, but for Ian himself._

 

_So Mickey supposed that the reason why he had spent today in his room, drinking and fucking around with his guitar was because… he was sort of at the end of his rope. What was he supposed to do now? Sometimes he just felt as if he was in the way. Yes, he considered Ian his family - of course he did. But he didn't have any experience with this bipolar shit. And once in a while he even felt as if Ian didn't want him there next to him._

 

_That being said, he realized now that maybe that was wrong. That maybe mini-red had been right. So he gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip and he made his way towards his boyfriend’s room, half-hoping that he would be asleep already so that he wouldn’t really have to explain anything. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that, anyway._

 

_Mickey swallowed quite thickly and he pushed the door open, taking careful steps inside of the room. It was a little bit cold, and empty. Empty save for the lump underneath the covers on that one, tiny twin bed. He would recognize that fucking lump anywhere. Ian’s head was rested on the pillow, his body turned away from the door._

 

_The dim lighting almost made the red strands appear to be an auburn color, and Mickey’s chest somehow felt lighter and heavier all at the same time, just from being in the same room as Ian again. it was as if he could breathe again, yet… yet he lost all ability to. After everything that they had been through together, Mickey knew Ian too well and he could immediately tell that he wasn’t asleep. Fuck. Mickey had hoped that he would just be able to slip into bed, but instead he took a couple of more careful steps over towards the bed._

 

_“Hey…” Mickey couldn’t decide if Ian’s frame froze or relaxed at the word. He stayed still for a moment, his shoulders still pushed a little bit forwards as he watched his boyfriend finally move, turning around on the skinny, tiny little bed to look up at the older man. A couple of the dark red strands covered his forehead, those beautiful green eyes filled with some kind of emotion that Mickey couldn’t quite put his finger on._

 

_Surprise? Wonder? Confusion?_

 

_He held himself up using his forearms, and Mickey swallowed. What was he supposed to say exactly? What possible excuse was there for him to use? Today had surely been one of the most difficult days of Ian’s life - getting out of a hospital like that - and Mickey hadn’t been there for him. What excuse what there? None. So Mickey didn’t make one up._

 

_“Sorry I’m late…” It was one of the stupidest and the lamest things that could have come out of Mickey’s mouth, yet suddenly everything was alright somehow. Ian’s frame relaxed, his eyes softening - for a second he was the man that Mickey had fallen in love with._

 

_It crossed Mickey’s mind that the reason Ian had looked so worried was because he had believed that Mickey was here to break up with him. That wasn’t fair. Had it crossed his mind? Ever? Sure. This bipolar thing was really fucking difficult to deal with, but Mickey wanted to. He wanted to deal with it. He wanted to deal with Ian. For better and for worse or whatever the fuck._

 

_Their eyes stayed on each other’s for a second as Mickey swallowed, starting to peel the old hoodie off of his body, Ian easing his body further towards the wall to give his boyfriend the space he needed to lay down. Mickey took the couple of remaining steps, and then he carefully laid down on his side, facing Ian. For a second or so, they just stayed there. No words exchanged. They just looked, something settling inside of Mickey. Some kind of knot coming untied. Making him feel as if everything was going to be okay._

 

_Without overthinking it all too much, Mickey brought his hand up to Ian’s cheek, lifting his own head off of the pillow and pressing his lips softly against the skin of his boyfriend’s forehead, letting his eyes slid closed for a minute. This felt so fucking good. Being back here._

 

_Because through everything - they were gonna be alright. Mickey’s lips left Ian’s forehead and his eyes slipped open as he went over into a nuzzle, gently nudging his forehead with his own, his mouth carrying a soft and loving smile, barely detectable. Ian’s eyes were closed, as if he was enjoying a moment of relief at the fact that Mickey was truly here. His hand was curled around Mickey’s wrist, keeping his hand up against his cheek, his forehead rested against Ian’s temple._

 

_This. This made it all worth it. These small moments where Mickey just knew that they were good. Where he could relax and realize that despite everything - they were going to be alright. Because they were together. And together, Ian and Mickey could get through everything and anything._

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey was hunched over, his mouth open as he coughed. It was too much to take. The memories, the pain. His arms were folded, clutching his stomach as he felt an overwhelming need to throw up. Get rid of it all somehow. His eyes were stinging with the tears wanting to pour down his cheeks, his heart quite literally hurting; being stabbed and shot and tortured over and over and over again.

 

Thankfully, it was still incredibly early in the day, so nobody was really outside yet. Still, if there had been people out, Mickey doubted that he would have been able to stop this reaction anyway. Something was happening to him. Something bad. He felt as if he had chewed down a bucket of poison ivy or some shit. Maybe that would have been less scary. Because Mickey was well aware of the fact that this breakdown didn’t start with anything physical.

 

All of it was in his fucking head. His heart. It all hurt so fucking bad to think back on that night when they had laid on that bed, holding each other. Whispering how everything was gonna be okay. They were gonna be okay.

 

Not even a month after that night, Ian’s eyes had been dead. Staring back at Mickey with nothing but disappointment and sadness and maybe even hatred. All Mickey had wanted to do was help. Make everything better. And he knew that he had gone about that wrong. That pretty much everybody he had ever met in his entire life had good fucking reasons to hate him now. He had failed them.

 

Mickey had ruined their lives and he had ruined his own, and now… oh, fuck, here it comes. Mickey headed into one of the skinny alleyways, his arms folded and clutching his stomach, his fingers holding onto the sweatshirt material as he bent over, hulking and finally throwing up all of the pizza that he had consumed with Drew and Jayme last night. It was as if he was too heartbroken to keep it.

 

As if his body couldn’t possibly get rid of the heartbreak that was shaking Mickey’s world, so instead it got rid of what it could. Mickey continued digging his fingers into his sides, his tears starting to spill over onto his cheeks as he clenched his eyes shut, his stomach continuing to get rid of its contents until there shouldn’t be anything left.

 

Once he was done, Mickey sighed, filling his mouth with saliva and spitting the last of the disgusting liquid out before he stumbled backwards, his eyes continued to fill up with tears that wanted out. Mickey’s head felt a little bit dizzy now, so he virtually had no choice but to lean back against the dark, brick wall behind him, his neck stretching upwards as he sank down, a deep sigh escaping his lips while he fought the tears back.

 

He didn’t want to do this shit. It was pathetic - it had been months. Months since he had seen Ian and even longer since they had broken up, so why? Why was he so fucking heartbroken? Heartbroken to the point where his body literally became sick because of it? Heartbroken to the point where he threw up because of it? He had never heard of that before, but that had just happened and he had the disgusting pool of vomit a few meters away from him to prove it. Mickey’s chest heaved up and down once, and he lifted his right hand up to his lips, using the back of it to wipe across his mouth as he did his best to calm down. As if that was possible.

 

Mickey had these moments - sometimes even these days - where he would just… be alright. Where he would spent a lot of time with Jayme, or he would get lost in crappy ass cartoons, and he would just forget. For a little while pretending that everything was alright. That he wasn’t a lost cause and that he could come back from being a complete failure.

 

That he could recover somehow. But then, there were days like this one. Days where he just needed to curl up into a ball in a cold, dark alley and cry - often he didn’t do that literally but today was a fucking day if he had ever seen one.

 

Jesus fuck. He pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around himself until he had his knees pressed close to his chest, hoping that nobody would end up walking by and see him like this. Tears were rolling down his cheek now, one by one, each of them warming up his cold, pale skin in the worst possibly way. He didn’t want this shit - he didn’t want any of it.

 

Yeah, maybe Mickey had every right to cry if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to cry, and he didn’t want to hurt, and he didn’t want to remember, and he didn’t want to be lost, and he didn’t want to be in a new city, and he didn’t want to have this amazing new friend, and he didn’t want to be confused, and he didn’t want to be… he just… he was tired. And he didn’t want any of it. It was all just… too much.

 

A few more dry coughs dragged their way up his throat, his stomach turning with the need to throw up once again. He pushed it down and instead tightened his hold around himself.

 

  
***

 

_“‘M okay” He tightened his arms a little bit more around himself, hoping that this night would pass quickly and that the weather would become just a little bit warmer tomorrow. This almost had to be worse than it was down in Chicago; the wind just wouldn’t give up_

 

_Mickey pushed his knees up even further against his chest, thinking that maybe it would shut some of the cold out and at least keep his dick, stomach and upper legs somewhat warmer. It didn’t. He didn’t have any gloves on, so his fingers were starting to go just a little bit more numb, exposed to the cold._

 

_Fuck if he was letting go of himself to put them back into his pockets, though; he would rather lose the feel in his fingers than the feel in his entire body - more than he already had that was. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even close to the winter months just yet, Mickey couldn’t remember ever being this cold. Then again, he had never stayed outside in the wind for this long before. He and his brothers had always managed to find stairwells or abandoned cars to crash in whenever they had been on long runs in the past._

 

_“Yeah?” A deep, annoyed - and somewhat shaky thanks to the wind blowing throughout his body - sigh escaped Mickey’s chapped lips as he waited for the guy to finally understand that he didn’t need his fucking concern. He still hadn’t looked up at the person, and frankly he wasn’t planning to. He just wanted to be left alone._

 

_Mickey kept his gaze locked on the dark denim that was covering his knees, burrowing the bottom half of his face as deeply as he could in the collar of his jacket as he tightened his hold around himself even further, hoping that it would help, all the while knowing that it wouldn’t._

 

_“Leave me alone, man. Told you I’m fucking fine” Mickey tried again; his voice dark and muffled by his jacket. At this point, not even the thick green clothing piece was doing much of a good job at keeping him from freezing his ass off. It crossed his mind to just get up and continue walking a little bit - maybe some movement would keep his body from turning completely numb - but ultimately, in this moment he didn’t trust his own body to get him very far. It was too gone already. Too cold. Too weak._

 

_“Alright” The dark voice spoke, and within the next few seconds, Mickey registered the sound of heavy steps walking away from him, the shadow that had been above him disappearing as the ‘thud thud thud’ got quieter, the person getting further and further away from him._

 

 

***

 

  
Mickey’s tears slowed down a little bit at the memory, his chest heaving up and down, head spinning. It was kind of really fucking strange - how far he and Jayme had come in really such a short amount of time.

 

That memory didn’t hurt half as bad as the ones of Ian. Instead Mickey just swallowed, lifting his head as he stared out into nothing, the dark eyebrows furrowed. He wished that he knew what to make of all of this - how to figure everything out. The memories of Ian? They turned Mickey inside out, and not in a good way. Not anymore. They stabbed his heart and they made him feel like a complete failure. They got him into a dark, skinny alleyway with tears pouring down his cheeks.

 

That’s what Ian did. Jayme? Jayme just… Jayme just made him really fucking confused. About everything. The fact that Mickey might have some kind of feelings for Jayme, that… somehow that wasn’t just about Jayme. If Mickey were to fully accept that - which he hadn’t yet, he was still hoping that maybe he was just fucking misinterpreting himself somehow - then that would also make everything with Ian all the more real.

 

That would mean that he and Ian were truly and really over - that this wasn’t just some long, dragged out fight or bump in the road. Sure, Ian and Mickey were over and they would never be them again - Mickey knew that. That wasn’t a sudden realization or some shit. But regardless…

 

If Mickey… let himself feel for Jayme, or if he let himself kiss him - which was a highly, highly, highly improbable scenario the way Mickey saw it… well then that would be it, right? Mickey would be walking away from Ian. Leaving him behind. Sure, Ian had walked away from Mickey a long time ago, but it was still scary - Mickey doing so too. Admitting complete and utter defeat with no possibility of turning back, and… oh, fuck he needed to throw up again.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey’s steps were quite heavy as he made his way up the stairs towards Jayme’s apartment once again. No nicotine had touched his lungs as he had originally planned, which put him a little bit more on edge, his fingers twitching for a cigarette. He had sat still in that fucking alley for surely over an hour before he had finally pushed himself to use his legs again.

 

He had cried and he had thrown up and he had let his mind spin and spin and spin. Maybe all of that should have helped him figure some of this shit out - helped him to understand himself a little bit better, but it hadn’t. He wasn’t any more at peace than he had been when he had run out of the apartment earlier this morning and he had no idea what to say to Jayme when he saw him. What to say to the guy who’s arms he had been completely wrapped up in. Who’s hand he had been holding - probably for hours. Mickey should just have stayed on that fucking couch. This made it all so much more complicated - deep and peaceful sleep aside.

 

Mickey swallowed, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he slid his key into the door and turned it, pulling it open. There Jayme was standing, tugging his leather jacket on, the blue hair completely untouched by product, and since it was longer in the front than the sides and the back, some of it fell over his forehead.

 

“Hey, mate. Where you been?” The dark words easily came out of his roommate’s mouth, a neutral look on his face as he bent down a little bit, tugging on the large, black combat boots that really looked kind of strange since Jayme’s legs were so thin. They looked like clown shoes. But like a stylish clown. Mickey had expected them to have some kind of awkwardness between them - they had spent the entire night spooning after all, and they really didn’t know each other all too well. But by now, maybe Mickey should have known that he wouldn’t have to suffer through all of that with Jayme. That wasn’t who this guy was, he just went on with his day as if it had been nothing and Mickey wasn’t sure how to react to that. Literally nothing was different.

 

“Just walked around for a bit” Was all Mickey said as they changed places, Jayme moving closer towards the front door as he picked his skateboard up, clutching it under his arm as Mickey toed his shoes off and took a few steps further into the apartment. “You got a lot of classes?”

 

“Nah…” Jayme’s voice sounded a little bit distant, so Mickey turned around, noticing that he had his eyes focused on the screen of his phone, quickly typing something out. That reminded him that he should probably ask to borrow a charger so that he could get in touch with Svetlana and start to tape his life back together. Maybe he should at some point in the future try to let Ian go - his son and his wife was another thing. He needed to deal with that part of his life at some point. Fuck. But not right now. “Three, I think. Do you want me to bring some food back?” Jayme asked with his thick, australian accent as he pushed his phone back down into the front pocket of his tight, grey skinny jeans.

 

“Yeah, man. Sounds good” Mickey agreed, and Jayme gave him a smile before he picked his bag up and hung it over his shoulder, turning around to face the door. Mickey turned around as well, starting to walk towards the couch, but before he could get very far, Jayme’s low pitched voice made him turn once again, looking at the abnormally tall guy a few meters away from him.

 

“Aye, Mickey, um…” Mickey raised his eyebrows, his arms hanging loosely by his sides as he waited for his roommate to say something about the laundry or the brewed coffee that he could smell all throughout the apartment. In a million years, he had never expected the next words that came out of Jayme’s mouth. “I know you’re going through a hard time, yeah. So just… don’t feel like you gotta stress or drive yourself crazy about anything around here” He paused for a beat, some of the fluffy-looking blue hair hanging down over his forehead and covering about half of his right eye; then he added the next five words. The ones that made Mickey furrow his brows; made his heart beat faster, his lips part. “I’m a pretty patient guy”

 

Before Mickey could even begin to overthink the words, Jayme gave him another kind smile and he walked out. Leaving Mickey to deal with the stirring in the base of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we might be getting somewhere. Finally? Should I add even more slow burn or should we just get to it? Lmao. I hope that you all liked this chapter, don't be afraid to comment or send me a message on [my tumblr](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/) to tell me how I'm doing, because nothing makes me happier <3
> 
> Oh! And I made a [gifset of the main ways that Jayme wears his hair](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/post/145005578555/unstyled-cotton-candy-thingy-the-bobblethe), because I never feel as if I'm able to describe it in a good enough way, so there's some visual aid for you guys. 
> 
> I'm wishing you all an amazing day! <3


	12. The Man Said; 'Why Do You Think You're Here?' (I Said; 'I Got No Idea')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a million years, Mickey would never be able to tell you why, but maybe that moment was when he actually realized it. Realized that Jayme eased his heart, not just because he was his only friend, but because he was Jayme.

The week afterwards marched on, each day not much different than the next. Mickey and Jayme had somehow ended up developing some sort of unspoken routine together - which wasn’t too strange, to be honest. They were two people living in an apartment that was most likely meant for one, after all. They did a lot of the same things - they ate pizza, they watched cartoons, they drank coffee and root beer.

 

Once in a while they even talked, though Mickey still didn’t feel comfortable revealing much about himself and he doubted that he ever would. Neither of them mention that strange thing that had happened that night. They didn’t mention the night they had spent cuddling close together, and they didn’t mention Jayme’s comment the next day. But Mickey had soon realized that they weren’t pretending.

 

They weren’t walking on eggshells around each other, because for some reason they didn’t have to. They were just comfortable - they were buddies despite the fact that they didn’t know each other all that well and despite the fact that it hadn’t been very long since they had met. If Mickey were to tell the truth, this fact kind of scared him, too. Because he knew that the second Jayme found out about everything - if they continued hanging out like this every single day, it was just a matter of time until he found out about Yevgeny, Svetlana, Terry, Mandy and all of that shit - he would run.

 

Not because Jayme wasn’t a good person - he was. Mickey knew that. But because he was sane, and he was smart. No sane person would stay friends with Mickey Milkovich after everything he had done. It didn’t make sense.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey’s legs were folded, naked knees pressed up to his chest as he sat in one of the corners of the couch in his boxers and a sweatshirt, some shitty ass cartoon playing on the television screen as he held his cup of morning coffee in his hands, the bright morning sun starting to settle down outside of the large window, making it all a little bit more bearable. Mickey knew that he could just walk over there and close the blinds, but he was too comfortable. The heat of the drink in his hands seeped into his palms, waking him up along with the caffeine that was slowly but surely returning some energy to his body.

 

“Mickey?” Jayme’s dark voice came from inside of his bedroom, reaching Mickey’s ears.

 

“Yeah?” Mickey answered, not bothering to take his eyes off of the loud cartoons that were playing on the screen in front of his face. It was some stupid ass shit that wasn’t anywhere near funny - especially since he was crashing with Jayme and couldn’t get high - but it was good enough for an early morning like this one. Some of the remaining sleep was slowly starting to leave his body, making him feel more awake by the second.

 

“Weren’t you wearing my Of Mice & Men tee the other day? You seen it?” Mickey turned his head towards the doorway of Jayme’s room where he stood, one hand curling around the wall as he looked at his roommate, his upper body drowning in that one black hoodie that he always slept in, the blue hair wavy and unstyled, ending up all over the place. Some of the sun caught the ring in his nose and the studs below his bottom lip, making the metal glimmer somehow.

 

Mickey was quiet for a beat or so, quickly sorting through his head to try to figure out exactly which shirt his roommate was talking about. He had actually started borrowing a little bit more of Jayme’s clothes lately - though not more than he absolutely needed to, of course - but he still only had the clothes that he had had on his body when he had been released.

 

He should really try to figure out a way to get his hands on some more of his own clothes. Maybe charge his phone and see if one of his brothers could meet him somewhere with a bag. Or he should just go home soon, once and for all. Maybe that was the better option. Fuck if he knew, it was still way too early to think about this shit.

 

“Mickey, I’m gonna be late for class. I should be at campus like right now, yeah?” Jayme’s thick voice carried the slightest hint of annoyance, tugging Mickey back to reality.

 

“Yeah, man. Sorry, I think it’s in the bathroom” Mickey sank back into the couch as his roommate thanked him quickly and then turned around to finish getting ready. He focused his eyes back onto the crappy ass cartoons, swallowing another big gulp of the coffee in his hands.

 

Probably about five minutes later was when Jayme exited his room again, this time dressed. His tall, skinny giraffe legs were wrapped up in a pair of his regular black skinny jeans, a large distressed cutout by one of the knees, exposing some of his inked up skin. The black muscle tee that he had been looking for was draped off of his shoulders, hitting around the middle of his thighs.

 

The shock blue hair was tied up into that absolutely ridiculous little bun on top of his head, the shorter strands falling out all around his crown as he walked through the livingroom towards the front door, digging through the bag that was hanging off of his shoulder, obviously looking for something but not finding it by the sigh that escaped his lips as he gave up and went on to step into his combat boots instead.

 

“Jay, what are those fucking socks?” Mickey’s dark eyebrows were slightly furrowed, half in amusement and half in confusion as he stayed sitting pressed into the right corner of the couch, looking as the bright colors of the cotton that covered his roommate’s large feet.

 

“They’re my happy socks, they’re comfortable. Leave me alone” Jayme murmured back, his voice carried somewhat of a babyish vibe to it as he straightened up completely and reached for his leather jacket, leaving Mickey to dig his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

 

A lot of the time, Jayme was this super serious and really kind guy, but the more they got to know each other, the more he was starting to show this other side of himself too. The side that had stated that he could sit like an egg the first time Mickey had woken up screaming, and the side that talked in a baby voice. He never did it for longer than a few sentences, and it wasn’t that often at all - but Mickey had to admit that it always made him happier somehow. Because honestly - how could a six foot eight man covered in tattoos acting like a child not cheer someone up?

 

Mickey snorted into his coffee as he took another gulp, moving his gaze back over to the television screen, dropping the subject of the ugly ass socks.

 

“Should I bring my key?” Jayme’s voice was normal again, the dark and thick accent clouding the words with a small hint of stress as he most likely remembered how fucking late he was for class at this point - if he would end up making the last ten minutes of the lecture then that would be a miracle.

 

“Nah, man. I’m staying here” Mickey waved him off, lifting his cup of coffee back up to his lips, focusing on what Snoopy was up to, Jayme continuing to dig through his bag for a second, looking for that one book that he couldn’t find for the life of him. Fuck. Maybe he had left it back at campus in one of the classrooms. He would have to check. Mickey was so lost in the cartoons that Jayme’s voice startled him the next time he spoke; for some reason he had assumed he had left already. “Yeah?” He answered, though, in response to his name being spoken. He turned his head to look at his roommate, the older man standing in the doorway, the door just slightly cracked open behind himself as he got ready to leave.

 

“Do you want to go to a movie with me tonight?” Mickey’s eyebrows traveled quite high up onto his forehead, his thoughts immediately starting to spin in the worst way. Jayme couldn’t mean… could he? Thankfully, the tattoo covered man could quickly see Mickey’s confusion and saved him. “Just as friends. There’s this movie I really want to see, I was going with Drew but he got a last minute customer”

 

“What, so I’m like your fucking second choice now or some shit?” Mickey couldn’t help but joke, his eyebrows still raised, though now more in amusement than anything else. The words dragged a few dark chuckles out of Jayme’s throat as he moved his head up and down a couple of times.

 

“Yeah, pretty much so. Are you in?” He pushed the door open a little bit further, starting to back out with the skateboard clutched underneath his left arm, his heavy bag hanging off of his right shoulder.

 

“Yeah, man. I’ll go”

 

  
***

 

  
Thanks to the fact that they had just entered the month of October a couple of days ago, it seemed that the air in Rockford was growing cautiously colder and colder with every second that ticked by. It wasn’t to the point where it looked as if it was going to be snowing anytime soon, of course, but it was enough for Mickey’s face to develop a redder shade as the roommates took the sidewalk step by step, getting closer towards the movie theater.

 

The sun was just now starting to settle a little bit, giving the city a greyish look to it. In an hour, darkness would be surrounding them all. The train was rushing somewhere in the distance, and it was such an obvious background noise to Mickey's life by now, that if it ever stopped, he would probably miss it a lot.

 

Mickey had his own jacket on, his hands tucked deep into the pockets as he tilted his head a little bit, burying part of his chin inside to keep it from the wind. It was probably a lot colder now than it had been when Mickey had actually been out here with no place to go, but it didn’t effect him in the same way now, quite obviously. Since now he knew that he would be coming home to a warm bed - well, couch, but still - and he wouldn’t be forced to sleep out on the pavement.

 

Mickey’s own jeans and shoes sat on his body as well, in fact - for a change he was only wearing one thing that was Jayme’s and that was the plain black v neck that sat underneath the thick jacket. His hands were curled into fists inside of the deep pockets, and he pulled his shoulders up a little bit, his steps easily matching up with Jayme’s, though the obnoxiously tall man was walking half a meter or so in front of him.

 

The blue hair was still pulled up into that tiny bun on top of his head, probably more hair falling out than what was actually willing to be held together by the skinny hairtie. Jayme still didn’t have a bigger jacket on than that thin, tiny leather one that he always wore, though the black loop scarf that now sat around his neck kept him a little bit shielded from the cold.

 

Neither of the men really felt the need to say anything as they made their way towards the movie theater. Mickey was kind of lost inside of his own thoughts, absentmindedly looking at the back of his roommate’s large combat boots as they were lifted and put back down over and over again, right at the same time as Mickey did so, their steps continuing to sync up.

 

A part of Mickey wanted to overthink this - not just going to a movie with Jayme, he believed him when he said that they were going as friends - but just becoming friends with him overall. It was one thing to get along with someone you were bunking with, it was another to purposefully hang out like this. Whether it was as friends or not. Mickey still completely believed that he was better off alone, yet - no.

 

No, he wasn’t doing this shit tonight. Practically every single second of every single day since he and Ian had first broken up, he had spent overthinking and blaming himself and hating himself, and tonight he wasn’t doing that shit. Tonight Mickey was going to a movie with his friend, and that was it. He would forget and just let himself be a twenty year old guy. Even if it was just for a couple of hours.

 

  
***

 

  
“What’s this fucking movie we’re seeing again, man?” Mickey asked, following Jayme into one of the rows of chairs. Apparently he was one of those people who insisted on sitting in the very middle of the theater. Jesus fucking christ. There weren’t all too many people there yet. A couple in the very back, and a few in the front. Mickey had quite honestly never really understood the whole thing with seeing a movie in a theater. It was just full of people and noise and a way larger screen than what was necessary to see what was going on.

 

Then again, growing up he hadn’t had the money to go anyway. The only time he had been in a movie theater in his teenage years was that one time that Ian had convinced him to sneak - nope. Mickey wasn’t thinking about him tonight either. Jesus fucking christ, this whole taking a break from his problems thing was proving to be a fuck of a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

 

“You’ve heard of Hunger Games, yeah?” Jayme answered his roommate’s question as they sat down next to each other - right in the fucking middle of the place, what the fuck. Though, then Mickey heard somebody right behind them groan - most likely thanks to the fact that Jayme was so incredibly tall - and his annoyance was turned into amusement, his teeth digging into the inside of his cheek to keep himself from chuckling.

 

“Yeah” He just spoke in response to Jayme’s question once he had collected himself enough.

 

“We’re seeing Mockingjay, it’s the same series” After that information had left Jayme’s lips, they were both quiet for a few minutes, relaxing back into their chairs, neither of them feeling the need to say anything else. The theater slowly but surely started to fill up with even more people, the clock ticking closer to when the movie was due to start. Mickey had to admit that he didn’t really mind this all too much - just sitting back in a large, dark theater.

 

There wasn’t as much noise as he remembered it being in a place like this back home, but that was probably because this place wasn’t filled with fourteen year old kids from the south side looking for a place to fuck. The trailers and the quizzes soon began, but Mickey and Jayme both stayed still and quiet, just looking up at the screen, both of them kind off of in their own world. Jayme thought about all of the work he still had to do for all of his classes, and Mickey - well Mickey was just really trying not to think at all but once again, that was proving to be an incredibly difficult task. Jesus fuck.

 

What was he doing here? Really? Sitting in a dark movie theater with a guy that he may or may not sort of have a thing for while Ian, Mandy, Svetlana and Yevgeny were all doing god knows what just to get by? And without Mickey in prison, Svetlana wasn’t really getting any money either. Mickey knew that the smart thing to do was to watch this movie, sleep on Jayme’s couch tonight and then pack up his shit in the morning and head back. However - Mickey also knew that that wasn’t something that he would end up doing. He liked this way too much for now - he liked being distant and he liked having his own life for once. Well, more so than he had had before, at least.

 

Maybe he also was starting to like Jayme way too much to just bail, but that was another can of worms that he was not willing to open and deal with just yet. Mickey swallowed, clenching his eyes shut for a second while he did his best to relax - forget. He had to really do his best to forget. Just for a little while.

 

A couple of minutes later, Mickey heard yet another quiet groan or grunt from behind them, and when he for some reason turned to look at Jayme, his roommate was staring up at the large screen, the studs below his bottom-lip highlighted by the flickering light, his mouth pulled up into some kind of a smirk, though he was quite obviously trying to contain himself. Mickey knitted his eyebrows together, his tongue resting in his cheek as he eased himself a little bit closer, enough so that he could talk to him without being too overheard.

 

“Man, you’re doing that shit on purpose” Mickey stated, watching Jayme’s smile grow for a second as he fought his own. Jayme’s tongue darted out, resting in the corner of his mouth while he took his eyes off of whatever movie trailer was showing in favor of turning his head and looking at his roommate instead, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes glimmering with some kind of amusement.

 

“I enjoy being an asshole sometimes, yeah” Jayme confirmed, capturing his bottom lip in between his teeth as he turned his head back to look at the large screen. It took Mickey a second to calm his face down, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t that funny, or even that mean - to sit in the middle of a movie theatre just because you knew you would annoy people with your height.

 

But it was just… kind of one more side to Jayme that Mickey hadn’t seen a ton of. Annoying, but kind of in a childish way. In a million years, Mickey would never be able to tell you why, but maybe that moment was when he actually realized it. Realized that Jayme eased his heart, not just because he was his only friend, but because he was Jayme. Mickey drove his elbow into Jayme’s arm, his eyes stuck on the large screen as his roommate pushed back.

 

Soon, they were both once again completely unable to fight the smiles on their faces as they pushed and shoved like a couple of five year-olds, Mickey’s fingers digging into Jayme’s clothed side and trying to tickle him while Jayme did the same thing to him. “Ow, no! This is not fair” More and more laughter started bubbling up out of the older man’s throat and Mickey had to fight so fucking hard not to join in - the large grin wasn’t worth fighting, though because it was there, right on his face and it wasn’t going anywhere right now.

 

  
***

 

  
About an hour later, Mickey and Jayme had both since long calmed down and relaxed back into the red chairs, their eyes focused on the movie that was playing on the large screen above and in front of them. Mickey really didn’t have much of an idea about what the fuck was going on, but there seemed to be a lot of drama and some kind of war going on or some shit, so at least it was his kind of movie to some degree.

 

The truth was that Mickey felt oddly calm like this - he felt calm sitting next to his friend, just getting lost in some sort of fictional universe despite the fact that he wasn’t sure what exactly was happening all the time. It was almost to the point where he didn’t think about Ian at all - or any of his real life problems. His head was rested back against the chair, his lips slightly parted. That was when it happened. That was when the explosion on screen surprised every single person in the movie theater - making Mickey and Jayme both jump in their seats - their little fingers brushing against each other.

 

It was such a tiny, tiny touch. Fuck, maybe Jayme hadn’t even noticed it. But it made Mickey freeze, his mind go blank. He wasn’t even sure why, because they had hugged before - fuck, they had even spooned that one bizarre night. But on those occasions, they had both been exhausted and Mickey had needed comfort. That had been about warmth and comfort, that could easily just be brushed off as a close friendship. Their fingers brushing in a dark movie theatre? That could not. Fuck. The movie continued playing, everybody following with the story except for Mickey.

 

Though his eyes were focused on the screen, his mind was anywhere but in the movie. His mouth was dry, lips parted as he blinked. Their fingers brushing had been a small, tiny accident - Mickey shouldn’t even have acknowledged it and he was pretty sure that Jayme had forgotten about it, that was if it had even registered in his brain to begin with.

 

But five minutes after the touch, Mickey was still way too aware of how close Jayme’s hand was to his own. Some kind of heat radiating off of his skin. They weren't touching at all, but their hands were so, so - so fucking - close. Mickey swallowed. They were in a dark movie theater. It was such a fucking cheesy thing to even be thinking about, but he couldn’t help it. Nobody would ever know. It would be so, so fucking easy to just…

 

Finally, Mickey threw any and all common sense out the window and moved his hand just a little bit closer to Jayme’s, his eyes staying fixed onto the screen, though of course he wasn’t focusing on the storyline. Not at all. Mickey’s knuckles brushed together with Jayme’s and Mickey was holding his breath, his heart beating against his ribcage as he waited, wondering if the older man would even end up noticing, because he seemed to be pretty into the movie right now. Mickey swallowed, trying to will himself to calm down when nothing happened.

 

However, after a couple of beats, Jayme’s hand started to move just a little bit. Mickey’s heart started beating a little bit faster - a feeling he fucking hated, by the way - he was pretty sure that he could feel it hit his ribcage. He swallowed once again, wishing that that dry feeling in his throat would just go away. Jayme’s hand moved a little bit more, both of them keeping their eyes on the large movie screen above them, though the fictional storyline wasn’t a main guest in either of their heads right now.

 

Their little fingers locked together for a beat, Jayme’s large adams-apple bopping up and down a few times in his long, skinny neck, Mickey’s throat drying out a little bit further when the larger hand moved to cup his own. Mickey took as deep of a breath as he could without it making noise, and then he turned his hand upwards, Jayme slipping their fingers together.

 

There it was. They were holding hands. In the middle of a crowded movie theater, though it felt as if it was just them.

 

Mickey couldn’t quite describe the feeling. It was as if his insides were screaming in panic, screaming for help, yet somehow he felt calmer and more at ease than he ever had in the past. Jayme’s fingers were as usual almost completely covered in rings of different forms of metal, and the jewellery felt cool against Mickey’s hand. Jayme’s thumb was rubbing slight, smooth and comforting circles on the soft skin right by Mickey’s.

 

His hand was the complete opposite of Mickey’s - it was large as fuck, the long and slim fingers making it difficult to determine if he was a punk version of slender man or not. But somehow it fit together with Mickey’s. They fit. And it felt good.

 

  
***

 

  
The night air felt cool on Mickey’s skin as he and Jayme exited the building, the sun completely settled by now, the city covered in a dark blanket of the night. Mickey’s hands were deep inside of the pockets of his jacket, keeping himself warm; their hands had parted when the movie had stopped so that they could stand up and put their jackets back on. It hadn’t been an awkward moment or anything like that, in fact it had felt quite natural. Mickey was - for a change - not very confused. He knew now.

 

He liked Jayme. And he liked him a lot.

 

But just because he wasn’t confused about it, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a terrifying fact. Mickey still had those moments where he would sink down in the shower and just bawl his eyes out because he missed Ian. Missed his voice, missed his touch, missed that red fucking hair. So it was quite obvious that he wasn’t over it quite yet, and Mickey wasn’t sure when he would be.

 

Though Mickey wasn’t confused about his feelings for Jayme, he was in fact confused about what would be the best and the worst way to handle it. Should he try to forget about it, or should he just… fucking go for it? Fuck if he knew.

 

The last time he had went for it had obviously been with Ian, and that had ended… less than gracefully to say the least. It all just kind of went full circle, because if he and Jayme were ever to happen, well then they would surely end one way or another. Most likely thanks to Mickey, because apparently that was who Mickey was. He failed at relationships - any kind - romantic, sexual or otherwise.

 

Mickey had never once had any feelings for Svetlana, but he still fucked that up. He had at some point had a bond with Mandy, but he fucked that up when he stood to the side and watched her get beaten to a bloody pulp while he did nothing. Mickey wasn’t worth this. He didn’t deserve a new relationship, and he sure as fuck didn’t deserve somebody as amazing as Jayme. Fuck, if -

 

“Did you like the movie at all?” Jayme bumped his left elbow to Mickey’s right shoulder as he spoke lowly, the words sounding awfully casual coming out of his mouth. Mickey noticed their height difference now more than ever, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it; the top of his head ended right around where Jayme’s shoulder began. As if this guy was a fucking giant or some shit.

 

Mickey thought back on Jayme’s question, and he doubted that he had ever been so thankful for someone interrupting his inner thought trail before, even if it was just with a meaningless thing like that; he knew that walking around hearing that echo inside of his head probably wasn’t healthy, but he just couldn’t shake it. The only person that seemed to be able to decrease the volume a little bit was Jayme. Mickey shrugged a little bit despite the fact that they were both looking straight ahead at the street lit sidewalk and not at each other.

 

“Yeah, man. It was fine” Mickey chose not to admit the fact that it had been incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything that had to do with the movie when Jayme had been sitting so fucking close, their fingers braided together like that. It just hadn’t been possible to focus on whether those fictional characters would survive or not when Mickey’s heart had been beating so hard against his ribcage that he hadn’t been sure that he would. Maybe that was an insane exaggeration - but his point stood nonetheless.

 

They continued walking in silence for another few minutes, heading back towards Jayme’s apartment. It didn’t take all that long, though, before Mickey’s head started turning again. Not turning with thoughts of his so called wife, or with thoughts of his ex boyfriend - for once they weren’t anywhere to be found inside of his head. He swallowed, his fingers twitching a little bit inside of his pocket; he kind of missed it.

 

He missed having Jayme’s fingers in between his own. They had rested there for almost an hour, and if he was being honest, it had felt good. Maybe even right - though that word could be argued. Mickey let both of his hands drop of out of his pockets, not all too sure if he was being subtle or not. It was cheesy, and it could be considered unnecessary - but he wanted it. He wanted to feel it again. Even if it was just for the ten minutes it would take them to get back to the apartment.

 

Thankfully - Jayme was anything but slow. Or maybe he just missed it too. Either way, it didn’t take many seconds before Mickey felt his little finger curl around his own again, both of them continuing to walk forwards, looking that way too. Mickey responded, bending his finger as well, and then Jayme moved to take his entire hand, all of their fingers locking together, their palms pressed against each other. Mickey supposed that he should have been scared - not just holding hands with a guy in public, but holding hands with Jayme at all.

 

A part of him wasn’t ready. A bigger part of him was. Jayme’s thumb once again started rubbing smooth circles on the back of Mickey’s hand, and for some reason it made him relax - maybe it made them both relax. Holding hands - though it was a big deal since they had never once really talked about any of this shit - it felt somewhat easy. Casual. A good kind of easy. It felt natural. Jayme’s hand felt warm, his fingers smooth were they were braided together with Mickey’s.

 

“Fucking fags” Mickey’s legs kept moving at the cough that came from across the street, but his blood ran cold. It wasn’t Terry, of course, but it sure as fuck could have been. His lips parted as he in the span of a second or so tried to figure out if he should give the old man a good beat down or if he should just try to calm himself down and ignore it, despite the way in which his heart was banging against his ribcage - and this time not in a good way. Not at all.

 

Jayme’s fingers felt pinching in between his own, his cheeks and jaw starting to ache with the need to throw up, all of those horrible memories of his father coming rushing back in flashes. As far as he had learned, when shit like this happened, beating them up or ignoring them were his only choices. Somehow, Jayme managed to find a simple middle ground.

 

The large hand slipped out of Mickey’s, and Jayme instead wrapped his arm tightly around his waist, tugging his roommate close to him, almost as if he was taunting the douchebag across the street, or as if he just wanted to protect the shorter man. Mickey was still looking straight ahead as their feet continued moving forwards, he couldn’t bring himself to look at whoever it was verbally spitting at them. With Jayme’s arm holding him close, his chin resting on top of his head, he heard it.

 

“You’re a dickhead, mate. You are a dickhead” Somehow - there it was. The perfect middle-ground. Mickey swallowed, his eyebrows knitting together as he felt his heart slow down a little bit, the panic seeping out of his body as the guy disappeared into the distance. Jayme let go of Mickey for a second before easily lacing their fingers back together, their feet continuing to move at a matched pace, getting them closer to the apartment in silence.

 

That was so fucking strange. How Jayme had just so easily fought back, yet… not fought back. Mickey wasn’t sure if Jayme had tugged him closer to taunt the guy, or if he had felt his body tense up and wanted to protect him - his guess would be the second option, but he decided to let it go. Either way, it made him feel safe, and it made him feel calm.

 

Mickey swallowed, looking down at their hands. The pale color of his own such a contrast against all of the tattoos that covered Jayme’s skin. Maybe it should have looked strange - it probably should have felt strange, but it didn’t. Someday soon, Mickey would sit down and try to sort his life out once and for all; for now, he would just continue getting to know this guy. Mickey would continue being amazed by the creature that was Jayme Atkins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're certainly moving forwards. You can expect *more* in the next chapter! 
> 
> I really hope that you guys are still liking this, the feedback that I've been getting so far truly means the world to me, and if I don't respond to every single comment, then just know that I forget things, lmao. But I read all of your comments and messages and they all make me smile. Not just about this story, but overall and I can't express in words how much it means to me. [(Here's my tumblr if you want to join in on the fun!)](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And as always I'm wishing every single one of you an amazing day! <3
> 
> (Also, one more thing - who saw [that video I posted](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/post/144548340682/youre-a-dickhead-mate-youre-a-dickhead-or) where my fc for Jayme literally kind of sounded like him? He usually doesn't at all, but I had to use that line, oh my god)


	13. This Isn't Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is no fucking Ian” Mickey spoke. “Not tonight” A shaky breath traveled out from in between his parted lips while he got back up onto his toes, Jayme dipping his head once again, their lips only separated by a single inch. Mickey tightened his hold on Jayme as he spoke those last two words. “Just you”

Jayme’s hand didn’t leave Mickey’s until they entered the apartment building again; the stairs were not wide enough for them to walk side by side anymore, so their fingers slipped apart, Mickey trailing after the taller man. It was starting to become a little bit late, both of them beginning to feel some need for sleep, not all too much, though. No words left either of their mouths as they walked up the stairwell, their steps echoing a little bit through the old building.

 

Mickey’s eyes were absentmindedly focused onto the back of his roommate’s shoes once again, his thoughts wandering away for a bit. This night had been a weird one - really fucking strange. Not just because something had snapped in between him and Jayme - snapped out of place or snapped into place, by the way? Fuck if he knew - but because no matter how much Mickey tried to figure out how he felt about it all - he couldn’t really bring himself to feel bad about it. Not tonight. Not anymore.

 

He knew himself, of course; that voice inside of his head that said that he didn’t deserve this, the one that called him a failure? That wasn’t dead. It would be back. But for tonight - even if just for a few minutes - it had quieted down. Mickey didn’t want to think about Ian tonight, and he didn’t want to think about Svetlana, or his son. Just Jayme. Just tonight. Just tonight, he wanted to take a break from his life and just be a twenty year-old guy.

 

Once they made it to the door of the apartment, Jayme reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling the key out and unlocking all of the different locks on the door, letting them both inside. Silence still laid in between them, but it wasn’t a bad one. It didn’t feel awkward or anything of the sort - it just felt… casual. Mickey almost wanted to sigh in relief as he walked inside, unzipping his large jacket; he hadn’t realized quite how cold the air was outside until just now when he didn’t have to endure it anymore. Both of them hung their jackets up on the hooks by the door and toed their shoes off - Mickey having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snorting at those ugly fucking socks that still covered Jayme’s feet, jesus fuck.

 

“Do you want to stay up for bit? Have some coffee?” Jayme was the one to break the easy silence in between them as they walked further into the dark apartment. The window was usually what gave the place some light, but since the darkness had fallen outside since long now, it was almost completely black. The realisation got Mickey to make the decision to walk over to the little table that stood next to the couch, pressing the button to turn the lamp on, giving the livingroom at least some kind of dim light.

 

“You drink a lot of fucking coffee” Mickey stated, the lamp giving off enough light that he could see his roommate where he stood over by the kitchen table, looking down at the phone in his hand, probably answering some text message or something.

 

For a brief - barely there - second, Mickey remembered how he used to sometimes wake up in the Gallagher house, Ian’s arms wrapped around his body while the smell of coffee reached his nose. But then he pushed it out of his head. Not tonight. It wasn’t healthy for everything to relate back to Ian, and Mickey knew that if he let thoughts of his ex boyfriend seep into his brain right now, that would ruin everything. It would end with him feeling like a complete and utter disappointment - and maybe he even was - but tonight, he wanted to pretend. Pretend that he wasn't and pretend that maybe he could deserve something.

 

Jayme’s dark, husky chuckles was what tugged Mickey out of his own brain. The sound made him feel better, made him forget about all of the things that made him feel like shit - just like that. For some reason that Mickey couldn’t quite put his finger on, Jayme did that. He made him feel good without even trying.

 

“It’s better than H, no?” The skinny man put his phone down onto the table, his lips pulled up into his regular, casual smile as their eyes connected from across the room. Mickey was completely unable to keep from returning it, so the edges of his mouth were tugged upwards, something happening in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Yeah, man. ‘Course. Go make some” Jayme gave his roommate one last smile before turning around and doing so. Mickey had taken a few steps away from the couch, but as he heard the coffee being made, he walked back and sat down on one of the soft cushions, easing himself a little bit closer towards the window than he normally would, knowing that Jayme would take the hint and sit down next to him.

 

It felt really fucking strange to Mickey, to be honest. Liking somebody - somebody who wasn’t Ian. Fuck, Ian had been the first guy that Mickey had ever let himself love, or even admit that he liked like that. And for a while, they had been amazing. But they weren’t anymore. They weren’t amazing, and they weren’t even together anymore. They hadn’t been for months. So maybe this was alright. Maybe it was okay that Mickey had feelings for someone else. He wouldn’t let himself think too far into the future, or trick himself into believing that things would work out perfectly in the end, but for now? For tonight, and at this point in his life - he let himself believe that it was okay.

 

Soon, Jayme walked over towards the couch, a cup of coffee in each hand. The blue strands were as a lot of the time, tied up into that tiny, ridiculous bun on top of his head, a ton of it falling out. Mickey meant it when he said that it looked ridiculous - since Jayme didn’t really have enough hair to make a good bun out of, but he still tried - at the same time… maybe it looked a little bit cute. His mouth was pulled up into that smile, exposing some of his teeth as he handed one of the cups over to his roommate, Mickey reaching up and accepting it gratefully. He wasn’t an idiot - he knew that Jayme was too good for him. That Jayme deserved someone better than Mickey, but - fuck, Mickey couldn’t help but think that maybe he wanted him anyway.

 

They stayed silent for another couple of beats, Jayme sinking down on the couch next to Mickey, both of them turned to the side, facing each other with their legs tucked in under their bodies. Mickey had his right hand wrapped around the black, matte ceramic that made up the mug, some of the heat sinking into his palm. The bottom of it rested against his folded knee, somehow calming him down, making him feel at home. He lifted it up to his lips, taking a large sip before lowering it again, swallowing and trying to figure out whether he should ask Jayme what he wanted to ask.

 

It could easily be a sensitive subject, Mickey wasn’t sure. And maybe it was none of his business. But the last words that had come out of Jayme’s mouth for some reason stuck with him, and he just… he wanted to ask. The blue eyes were focused onto the human heart inked into the left side of Jayme’s neck as he opened his mouth to talk.

 

“I um… I even wanna know how bad it got?” As the last word left his lips, that’s when Mickey looked back up into his roommate’s eyes, wondering if he would have to be more specific than that. He didn’t. Jayme understood. The only thing that Jayme had ever really told Mickey about his past in terms of drug abuse was just that - that he had been involved in it and that it had been bad. He had never gone deeper than that, and a part of Mickey wanted to know. Another part didn’t. The only version of Jayme that he knew was this one - the childish, but mostly calm and collected, yet still anything but boring man - surely there had been another version of him at some point. Probably a scarier version; Mickey knew what drugs did to you. Growing up on the south side, he had seen it time and time and time again.

 

“No” Mickey doubted that he would ever cease to be amazed at Jayme’s brutal honestly. His eyebrows furrowed a little bit, waiting for his roommate to elaborate because he knew that one word answers wasn’t really his thing. With most people, that’s what he preferred. As little talking as possible, but Jayme… he kind of liked hearing him talk. He even listened to the words.

 

The way Jayme expressed himself was kind of nice, but more than that, Mickey supposed that it was just his voice overall. The thick accent together with the low pitch that didn’t seem to belong to someone so young. Jayme’s voice was kind of… mesmerizing. Was that a word? It probably was. Jayme was quiet for a beat or so before he took one more swallow of his coffee, then he broke the eye contact in favor of getting rid of the cup by placing it onto the coffee table. Then he reached for Mickey’s, doing the same with that one and Mickey didn’t even mind. Jayme was a fuck of a lot more interesting to focus on.

 

“You don’t want to know” He eased himself a little bit forwards, closer to Mickey yet not at all close enough that they were touching, really. His legs were still covered in those black skinny jeans, one of his skinny legs draping off of the side of the couch while the other one was folded and tucked underneath his body. That Of Mice & Men muscle tee hung off of his shoulders, way too large for his tiny frame, really; his long and skinny, tattoo covered arms completely exposed. Fuck, he was thin. It made some kind of a lump grow in the base of Mickey’s throat, but he swallowed the unpleasant feeling.

 

“Why’s that?” Jayme’s face fell a little bit at the question, and Mickey nibbled a little bit at the inside of his top lip in nervousness as he felt their fingers brush together. His heart did some weird, fucked up flip as he looked down, watching the way in which Jayme was carefully running his skinny, shaded fingers over Mickey’s slightly thicker, pale ones. The older man still had those soft bracelets wrapped around his wrist; he wasn’t wearing a ton today but certainly a bigger amount than Mickey would ever be willing to deal with. It looked kind of cool; the leather and the hemp materials laying against the inked up skin.

 

“Look, who I am…” The dark voice began, both eyes focused on their hands; they didn’t have their fingers locked together yet. Instead the larger hand was slightly cupped over Mickey’s, his thumb rubbing smooth and reassuring circles over the soft skin on the side of the pale hand. “I’ve worked pretty fucking hard to get here, yeah? To have a good life” They still weren’t looking at each other.

 

Mickey swallowed, this time to try to calm down the fluttering inside of his chest as he watched their hands. How the fuck something so simple could feel so good, he didn’t know. Jayme continued talking, and he hung on to every single word.

 

“I was really fucking addicted to the stuff, I don’t even remember half the shit we did” Mickey finally looked up, their eyes connecting. Jayme’s thumb continued rubbing smooth circles on the side of his hand as they were silent for a beat, blinking back at one another. Jayme’s shoulders went up into a slight shrug, his collarbones poking out of his skin. Mickey could tell that despite the fact that Jayme was who he was, this wasn’t easy for him to talk about. Of course it wasn’t. But for some reason, Mickey found himself wanting to hear it. “And it took me a long time to get here, but I’m good now, yeah. Been clean for a long time” Silence filled the livingroom for a moment after that, Jayme continuing to move his fingers a little bit over Mickey’s hand, neither of them looking anywhere but each other’s eyes. “So if you’re worried about… anything” Jayme continued then, his eyes softening even a little bit further as he shook his head as a replacement to saying ‘You don’t have a reason to be’.

 

After that, they were quiet again. No sounds filling the livingroom save for the train that rolled somewhere in the distance; a sound that Mickey had come to love by now. It was peaceful, and somehow it even sounded like home. The truth was that Mickey wasn’t all that worried about the drug part of Jayme’s past, he believed him when he said that he was clean and that he was doing alright on that front.

 

If there was one thing that Mickey was in fact a little bit worried about, that was his weight. But he decided not to say anything about it, because maybe they didn’t know each other well enough yet. Jayme had - as far as Mickey could remember - never said anything about his body despite the fact that it was quite obvious that he wasn’t healthy. Mickey may not be the smartest guy in the whole fucking world, but even he understood that it was probably a sensitive subject. So tonight - just like any other time when he came to think of that, which honestly wasn’t all that often - he pushed it out of his mind.

 

Mickey moved his eyes to their hands; they were lifted now, their elbows resting on the back of the couch while their palms were pressed together in the air, their fingers easily slipping in between each other’s. It felt kind of strange in Mickey’s opinion - just sitting on a couch, holding hands and fucking talking. None of it had ever really been his thing, not with Ian and obviously not with anybody else.

 

Fight and fuck was the south side theme song, and it had been his life for so long, it was strange to find something else satisfying. He would have believed that this would be boring, but apparently - with Jayme - nothing was boring. Mickey picked his eyes off of their hands again, looking back into Jayme’s eyes. He had never paid attention to their color before just now, and he couldn’t really decide what it was.

 

Maybe green, or maybe some kind of light brown. It was hard to tell in the dimly lit livingroom in the middle of the night, but maybe that’s why Mickey felt comfortable looking. Like the night covered him with some kind of blanket of calmness and bravery. Had it been the middle of the day, the bitter echo in his head would have been too loud for him to even begin to think about just sitting like this. Holding Jayme’s hand like this.

 

Suddenly, Mickey got a very bitter taste in his mouth. He knew that he and Jayme were moving towards… something. They both did. Maybe it wouldn’t be tonight, or maybe not even this month, but eventually… maybe something would happen. They liked each other a lot, and they didn’t need to say that out loud for it to be obvious. And that was the exact reason why Mickey needed to tell him. Now. Even if he didn’t want to ruin this - and there was the slight possibility that he would - Jayme needed to know. It wasn’t fair for him not to.

 

“Look man, um…” Mickey broke the eye contact and slipped his hand out of Jayme’s. His gaze was once again focused on the heart on his roommate’s neck; the muscle tee had slipped down a little bit, revealing some of the compass as well. He was quiet for a second, just collecting himself as he thumbed his bottom lip, their eyes connecting again. Jayme’s perfectly arched eyebrows were a little bit drawn together, a thin strand of blue hair hanging down over his forehead as Mickey swallowed once more. “If we’re thinking about… Jayme, there’s some shit you should know”

 

Hazel eyes stayed on blue, Jayme keeping quiet for a beat or two before he lifted his now free hand up to his face, his elbow staying rested on the back of the couch as he lifted his index finger, leaning his chin in the ‘L’ it created, a low hum sounding in the base of his throat, giving Mickey the permission to talk, all the while doubting that it could change anything - he was in too deep already.

 

Mickey nibbled a little bit on the inside of his cheek, their eye contact keeping while he gathered up the courage, terrified that this would blow up in his face. He had to tell him, though. He knew he did, this wasn’t the kind of thing that he would ever just be able to forget about. Even if he hated it, it would always be with him, it would always be a part of his past, and he would never be able to get rid of it. Mickey knew that his only real option was to somehow try to grow at peace with it, and maybe saying it out loud to Jayme would be some kind of a first step in the right direction. Maybe. So he shifted his gaze down onto the piece of couch that separated them, thumbing his bottom lip before he finally spoke.

 

“You know that I was locked up for a while or whatever?” His voice sounded surprisingly steady, and Jayme hummed in response, Mickey finding the courage to look up as he continued. “They got me on attempted murder” The words were a little bit more of a whisper than Mickey had intended for them to be, making him realize that that was the first time that he had ever actually said them out loud. The first time that he had ever been able to push them past his lips. And he had spoken them for Jayme’s ears. Jesus fuck. That almost had to mean something, right? Nothing really changed in the air of the room, the only tension Mickey could feel was his own over whether this would end up ruining what they didn’t really have yet. What they possibly could have had. “There’s a fucking story behind it, I don’t just fucking go around shooting people” Mickey was quiet for a beat, looking into the calm, hazel eyes before he found the urge to add the next couple of words. “You gotta know that”

 

Mickey swallowed after that, waiting in silence for Jayme to freak out. For him to tell him to pack his shit and get going. Nothing came. Instead, he was quiet for another beat, and then he reached his hand out, gently taking Mickey’s, their fingers once again lacing together. Something happened in the pit of Mickey’s stomach at that; at knowing that everything was alright. He wasn’t sure if his heart was beating faster, or if it was calming down now - possibly both. His gaze was on their hands, watching how their fingers fit together. Mickey still hadn’t quite gotten used to the way that it looked - Jayme’s shaded, skinny fingers in between his own - but he thought that maybe he liked the view anyway. And maybe it felt good, too.

 

“A while back…” Jayme’s dark, accent laced voice dragged Mickey’s eyes back to his face. “I was at home, just - stoned out of my fucking mind, yeah? Got a phone-call” Mickey was quiet, listening to every single word - that was never a difficult thing to do when it was Jayme talking. And he was a little bit relieved that the topic was no longer on his time in prison. “It was Winnie, she was just… screaming, crying. Completely hysterical, asking me to come get her” Mickey furrowed his eyebrows a little bit while he continued listening, their eyes on each other’s, hands safely slipped together. “She was in an alley, I found her somehow, can’t for the life of me remember how” Jayme shrugged a little bit, biting his bottom lip in thought before continuing. “There was a lot of blood, yeah. She was just sitting curled up against the wall, a body laying next to her” Mickey swallowed, Jayme’s face falling a little bit more at the memory. “Apparently he’d tried to rape ’er, and…” The dark words were coming out of his mouth a little bit faster now, as if he wanted to have this over with, yet still wanted to tell Mickey about it. “Anyway, since the guy didn’t make it, they locked her up”

 

“But it was fucking self-defense. She don’t deserve that shit” Mickey couldn’t help but state, his eyebrows furrowing a little bit more. That story had to be the very definition of unfair, jesus fucking christ. How did something like that even happen?

 

“Yeah” Jayme agreed, looking down at their intertwined hands for a short beat before he moved his gaze back up to the blue eyes in front of him. Mickey’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping across his chapped, bottom lip. “Anyway, Mickey. My point is that sometimes shit happens, yeah? Sometimes we act before we think, or we think we’re doing the right thing or…” He trailed off for a moment with another slight shrug. “Doesn’t make you a bad person. I’d say if you’d take it back, or if you feel bad about it, then that’d make you a pretty good one, no?” Jayme’s thumb continued rubbing smooth circles on the back of Mickey’s hand as he spoke, making him feel even more at ease than he already did.

 

“Never thought about it like that” Mickey admitted, somewhat thoughtfully. Jayme hummed lowly, moving his gaze down to their hands, untangling their fingers and reaching for Mickey’s right one as well, holding them both in front of himself and looking down at the ink that was scribbled on each knuckle, taking a second to realize what it made up. He had noticed the tattooed, but he had never really bothered to find out what exactly it said; when he did, he couldn’t help the slight smile that appeared on his thin lips. “Shut the fuck up about it, man. I was fourteen” Mickey’s tone carried a hint of amusement as he pulled his hands out of Jayme’s, their eyes connecting again, matching smiles on their faces.

 

“I like ‘em” Jayme murmured, making Mickey swallow; his tone almost made it sound as if he was talking about something beyond the ink on Mickey’s knuckles, but he chose not to think about it all too much. It was too late, and they were both beginning to become a little bit too tired. “Anyway, it’s almost one, I should head to bed” Jayme said a moment later, almost as if he had been reading Mickey’s thoughts. The younger man’s head moved up and down twice into a slight agreeing nod, both of their mouths still pulled up into smiles as Jayme stood up, towering a freakishly large amount above Mickey since he was still sitting down, his neck stretching a little bit as he looked up.

 

“Thanks for tonight man, good time” Mickey felt the need to say, the two of them sharing a look that made his stomach turn once again.

 

“You too, Mickey. See you in the morning?”

 

“Yeah” With that, Jayme turned around, walking past the cups of cold coffee on the coffee table, heading through the dimly lit livingroom, walking towards his bedroom.

 

Mickey swallowed where he stayed, sitting in the middle of the couch, facing the inside of the apartment, small slivers of moonlight probably slipping in through the half-closed blinds and laying over his back. His eyes were mindlessly focused on his roommate’s back, watching the way that his shoulder blades were incredibly prominent despite the dark lighting and the loose fabric of his muscle tee. Mickey chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, his eyes staying on the guy, watching a few of the blue strands slipping out of the skinny hairtie, hanging down over the tattooed skin of his neck. He watched the way that he moved, remembered the way that he talked, and before he even really knew what he was doing, the words were out of his mouth.

 

“Hey, man. Hold up for a minute, alright?”

 

Jayme turned around a few meters away from the door of his bedroom, his eyebrows raised; he had absentmindedly been chewing at a small hangnail on the side of his thumb, so the finger stayed by his lips only for a moment before his arm dropped to his side, waiting for his roommate to say whatever he wanted to say. Mickey stayed seated for a second, his thoughts spinning around in his head at a frighteningly fast pace.

 

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, he shouldn’t have called him back, he should have just let him go in there and have this night overwith. Mickey should have some more time to think about this. But then again - thinking was all he had done for the past two weeks and where the fuck had it gotten him? If he ever wanted to move forwards - in any sense of the word whatsoever - then he needed to act. Right? He needed to act, and oh - fuck it.

 

Mickey threw any and all thoughts out the window, and he stood up, taking the few steps over to where his roommate was standing. It all went pretty fast, and maybe that was a good thing. Mickey’s right arm wrapped around Jayme’s tiny waist, pulling him close while his left hand fisted some of the dark fabric of his muscle tee. Mickey tilted his head upwards, and he was forced to get up on his toes just a little bit to reach, but then there it was. He could feel the cool metal of Jayme’s snakebites against his own bottom lip, the warmth of his mouth against his own, creating some kind of wonderful contrast.

 

Jayme’s lips pressed back immediately, his large hands landing on either side of Mickey’s face, tugging him up and close to him. Their noses were just a little bit smashed into each other’s cheeks; it wasn’t a soft kiss. Not really. But there were also no tongues involved, no pulling away and going in for more. For a moment in time, they just stood there. Holding each other close, lips pressed together, eyes closed. Something snapping into place inside of both of them.

 

To Mickey, it felt so fucking strange - to be kissing Jayme. To be kissing someone who wasn’t Ian. But it also felt so, so fucking good. The way that his stomach fluttered, the way that his heart immediately picked up and started beating against his ribcage at a fast pace. The heat of Jayme’s large hands holding his face, his thumbs resting on his cheeks.

 

Mickey would even go far enough as to say that it felt pretty fucking amazing. By the time the kiss ended, surely at least thirty seconds had passed, a tiny and barely audible kissing sound registering as their lips left each other’s, just a tiny bit of each other’s saliva remaining on their mouths. Mickey’s eyes were still closed as he relaxed, his heels hitting the cement floor once again, his arm staying around Jayme’s waist, his fist relaxing a little bit around the fabric of his shirt. Jayme’s hands remained on his face, their foreheads resting together for a beat.

 

“Fu-ck” Mickey was the one to break the settling silence in between them, their eyes still closed. The word was broken in half with a slight hiccup, almost as if with all of the emotions running through his body right now, he was unable to speak properly. Jayme just hummed darkly, a few of the fingers of his right hand curling a little bit, bringing some of the black hair in between them before straightening out again.

 

Mickey tightened his hold on Jayme some more, getting back up on his toes to chase after his lips once again - before he could, though - he was stopped. Jayme added a tiny bit more pressure to his face, lifting his own up enough that Mickey understood that that had been a no. His eyebrows furrowed as he sun back down onto his flat feet, his thick eyebrows furrowing while he blinked up at the taller man, his arm staying around his waist, hand relaxing around his shirt once again.

 

“Ian” Was all Jayme mumbled, swallowing, the large adams apple bobbing up and down in his skinny neck. Blue eyes laid on hazel, and Jayme didn’t have to say more than that one syllable for Mickey to understand what he meant. What he was asking. Before Mickey could overthink it too much, he shook his head and took a step closer, tugging the older man even closer to himself, continuing to look up into his eyes, drinking in the feeling of his calloused hands resting around his face.

 

“There is no fucking Ian” Mickey spoke. “Not tonight” A shaky breath traveled out from in between his parted lips while he got back up onto his toes, Jayme dipping his head once again, their lips only separated by a single inch. Mickey tightened his hold on Jayme as he spoke those last two words. “Just you” It scared Mickey - just a little bit - how true it actually was. Tonight, he wasn’t thinking about Ian, and he wasn’t thinking about his life. He wasn’t thinking about what would happen in the morning. All he could possibly think about was Jayme. This fucking amazing guy, towering over him like a fucking skyscraper. Mickey just wanted him.

 

“Fuck, come here” Jayme cursed. This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant, and it wasn’t uncertain in any way shape or form. They knew what they wanted, what they needed. Mickey stood on his tiptoes, his arm tightly wound around Jayme’s waist, keeping them pressed against each other, their eyes staying closed as their lips moved against each other, no tongues involved just yet. Seeing as Jayme’s nose was quite large for his face, it was almost completely smashed into Mickey’s cheek, but neither of them bothered to change the position of their heads to fix it.

 

The large, slender and tattoo covered hands stayed on either side of Mickey’s head, holding him close while Jayme nipped at his lips, some saliva mixing in between them. Mickey could still feel the cool metal of the studs in his bottom lip against his own, his nose ring digging into his cheek. His head was completely swimming with thoughts, yet was blank somehow all at the same time. Fucking hell, why had this taken them so long?

 

“Take your fucking shirt off” Mickey cursed into Jayme’s mouth, the kiss only slightly open mouthed still as he impatiently tugged on the large, black muscle tee, keeping his other arm wrapped around his skinny frame. Mickey tried to deepen the kiss, tugging even harder, but before he could, it broke again. A slight groan fell from his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up into the hazel eyes once again, silently asking what the fuck it was this time. He didn’t want to talk right now. He just wanted Jayme.

 

“We’re not having sex tonight, Mickey” Jayme’s voice was slightly shaky, darker than usual. Yet he sounded very sure of himself, giving Mickey no choice but to sigh and accept the statement - if Jayme didn’t want to then of course they wouldn’t. Even if he was disappointed as fuck. Damn.

 

“The fuck for?” He had to ask, though. Jayme let his hands drop a little bit, his wrists resting on Mickey’s shoulders instead, his fingers toying a little bit with the black strands of hair as Mickey kept his arm around his waist, his grip on the cotton fabric loosening just a little bit.

 

“I’m gonna say something that might scare you away, yeah? But I have to say it. I like you, Mickey. So fucking much” Mickey’s eyes softened a little bit, the words making something in the pit of his stomach start to stir again.

 

Jayme liked him. Really liked him. It hadn’t exactly been a secret lately, but hearing the words - fuck. They sounded so good. Mickey pushed out the echo in his brain that told him that he didn’t deserve him. That he didn’t deserve this. Because Jayme fucking liked him. It made him feel like a twelve year old girl and he didn’t even give a fuck.

 

“It was less than a week ago you woke up screaming his name, ‘member? I don’t know if they’re good or bad dreams, or if you ever think of him when you’re awake - but it doesn’t matter. Because that tells me that you’re not over him yet, yeah? And I like you… way too much to risk being some kind of rebound, I don’t want that. I like you too much to have sex with you before you’re ready. Mickey, I don’t think you’re ready” There wasn’t any heat to Jayme’s tone, but it also didn’t sound completely soft, and maybe that’s what made Mickey listen. Maybe that slight edge to his dark voice was what made him realize that he was right. “Maybe it’s selfish as fuck, I don’t know…” Jayme continued then, his teeth grabbing a hold of his bottom lip for a moment as he continued running his fingers through the black strands of hair, dipping his head a little bit to get closer to Mickey. “But I want to be the only guy on your mind, so can you honestly tell me that if we fucked right now - he wouldn’t slip into your mind?”

 

Mickey couldn’t promise that. They both knew that, and though Mickey had never in the past seen one single possible reason that you should wait to fuck someone - he did now. He got it, and to be honest? He kind of liked the idea.

 

“Yeah, man. Alright, let’s wait. We’ll wait” Jayme seemed to relax a little bit at the words, both of them staying silent for a second, still holding each other close, not wanting to part. For some fucked up reason or another, talking about Ian - even if it had been for the briefest second - hadn’t made Mickey want to pull away from Jayme. If anything, it had only made Mickey realize how fucking much he wanted this man. He was everything Mickey wasn’t, and somehow they were so much of the same.

 

“Although” Jayme murmured huskily after a couple of seconds, his mouth pulling up into a slightly teasing smile, his eyes flickering in between the blue eyes and Mickey’s lips, as if he couldn’t decide which feature was the most beautiful. “I suppose we could be cleared for kissing right ‘round now, huh?” Mickey’s mouth pulled into a large grin that he couldn’t for the life of him resist.

 

“So fucking cleared, come ‘ere” Both of the young men laughed happily into the kiss, Mickey tightening his hold on the thin cotton fabric, tugging Jayme even closer to him, the large hands staying safely on his cheeks, tugging him up while he was still forced to get up onto his toes to reach his roommate’s lips. This time they had all of their cards laid out onto the able, they knew how they felt and what they were doing. So this time, neither of them had any reason to hold much back anymore. Jayme’s long, slender-man-like fingers continued slipping through the soft, black strands of Mickey’s hair, both of their eyes closed as the kiss grew a little bit deeper by the very second.

 

Mickey’s arm wrapped all the way around Jayme’s waist, his hand curled around the right side of it, keeping him close, both of their lips parting a little bit. He slipped his tongue out of his mouth, running it somewhat gently along Jayme’s bottom lip, asking for entrance; the older man just hummed, gratefully giving it to him and responding directly, their tongues sliding perfectly over each other’s, saliva mixing together.

 

Jayme kissed the way he talked. Controlled and powerful, but somehow soft, and so, so good. It was so fucking addicting. Mickey unwrapped his arm from around Jayme’s waist, moving his other one further up so that he could fist the neckline of the large shirt, trying to somehow find a way to tug him even closer. The taste of coffee registered with Mickey, blending with the sweet taste that had to be purely Jayme, making for a completely addictive and intoxicating mix. This felt so fucking good - better than Mickey would ever be able to wrap his head around.

 

Jayme’s left hand left his face, wrapping around his waist instead, obviously just as desperate to have him even closer. Desperate to have as much as he possibly could as he deepened the kiss some more, pushing his tongue deep down inside of Mickey’s mouth, both of them humming in satisfaction. The kiss broke for a mere second as they tilted their heads to change the angle and then go in for even more. Mickey’s lips were stuck to Jayme’s, sucking at them, their tongues battling. His entire body had to be in high gear by now, yet he felt calmer and more at peace than he ever had before.

 

“Fuck” The kiss ended suddenly with Mickey’s feet hitting the cement floor, the back part of his lower legs aching from him having to stand on his toes for such a long time. Jayme’s eyes were open by now, his eyebrows a little but drawn together in confusion as Mickey looked up at him. “Fucking giant, I can’t even reach” Jayme’s mouth tugged upwards into an amused smile, his feet moving forwards, nudging Mickey to back up a little bit, and when he was close enough, the older man pushed him down to sit on the couch, eagerly climbing on top to straddle his lap.

 

“Better?” Their lips were already close enough again that Mickey could feet the breathy - and slightly teasing - word fan his lips, making them tug up into a large grin that he didn’t bother fighting. He knew that he never would have been able to anyway.

 

“Mhm” The grin stayed stretched across his face all the way into the next kiss, no time wasted before they pressed their tongues into each other’s mouths again, neither of them able to wait. Mickey deepened it immediately, eyes closing as he sucked Jayme’s lips in between his own, his heart fluttering inside of his ribcage. This almost felt even better than it had a moment ago - sitting on the couch with Jayme’s weight on top of his thighs, just kissing.

 

Feeling his cheeks ache with the need to smile, making it difficult for him to decide whether he wanted to kiss or laugh in happiness. Because that’s what he was - in this moment, at least - he was happy. So fucking happy. Jayme had to be one of the most amazing people that he had ever met in his entire life - not to mention hot - and now he had him in his lap, his lips on his own, tongues tangling. Jesus fucking christ.

 

One of Jayme’s large hands stayed at the back of Mickey’s neck, tugging a little bit at his hair while his left hand was at the collar of his v neck, tugging just a little bit, just as Mickey still had his hands on the older man’s chest, holding onto the thin cotton fabric as they explored each other’s mouths, drinking in this feeling. Loving it all more with every single second that passed.

 

No sounds rang through the room safe for the slight train somewhere in the distance, and the smacking of their lips. Their heavy breaths as they tried to come even closer, but failed.

 

Another, thin strand of blue hair slipped out of the tiny bun on top of Jayme’s head, ticking Mickey’s forehead; despite the fact that he tried to fight it a little bit, it made him grin into the kiss as he let go of Jayme’s shirt with his right hand, bringing it up to his head instead, continuing to suck and peck at the pierced man’s lips while he tugged at the tiny, ridiculous bob at the very top of his head, successfully getting the hairtie out and throwing it across the room.

 

“My bobble!” Jayme exclaimed, somewhat childishly as he broke the kiss to straighten up and turn his head to look at the tiny black dot that was now laying on the floor, halfway across the room, the blue strands free. Mickey moved his hands down to curl around his thin thighs, tugging him a little bit closer.

 

“Fucking ugly ass hair” At the chuckled words, Jayme turned back to look at the grinning man underneath him, completely unable to keep himself from joining him. Dark, happy and amused chuckles filled the room as Jayme relaxed into the younger man again, bending his back a little bit to bring their faces close together, foreheads touching as their eyes stayed open, looking into each other’s, chuckles still falling out of their mouths and fanning each other’s lips. Mickey’s stomach continued fluttering, heart beating for the beautiful man on top of him as he tightened his hold around his thighs, tugging him even closer and making it clear that the jokes were over. He wanted kissing. Lots and lots of it.

 

The chuckles stopped when their lips grabbed a hold of each other’s once again. Like magnets; Mickey sucking on Jayme’s and Jayme sucking on Mickey’s, their tongues searching every single inch of each other’s mouths, their saliva mixing together in the most intoxicating way. Everything about Jayme was intoxicating. Everything. From the way he looked, to the way he walked and the way he talked. Mickey wanted him so fucking bad, and as they got more and more lost in each other, he knew that he finally had him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jickey is officially a thing. Did I do good? How did this go? I don't know, I'm so nervous because I feel like I've been planning this chapter for so long, but yeah. Please tell me if I did good, lmao. Also, I know that this whole story is related to Amy Winehouse music, and that the chapters are named after her lyrics, but I just remembered 'Don't Deserve You' by Plumb - dude. That song was like written for Mickey and Jayme. 
> 
> In other news, I am now taking a couple of weeks off from writing. Just because I want some time to miss it and to relax completely. It does bring me a lot of joy, but it's a lot of work at the same time, so I need a beat to breathe, lmao. I'll still be over on [tumblr](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/), though! And I'll be back to updating soon! <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always incredibly appreciated!


	14. A Lasting Treasure (Or Just A Moment's Pleasure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jayme had never been the kind of person to over analyze something. He wasn’t one to try to somehow turn something inside out just to find a reason, when odds were that there wasn’t one. This thing - whatever ‘this thing’ was - that he had with Mickey, it wasn’t different. Jayme didn’t feel the need to spend hours thinking about why he felt like this, or what it was about this guy that made him different from all of the other guys he met on a regular basis. Jayme didn’t really care about why he liked Mickey - he just cared that he did. And it was difficult to keep himself from grinning down at his hands like a flipping idiot, because last night had been… kind of perfect.
> 
> “Jaym, the fuck are you grinning about over there anyway? You look bloody crazy” Mission impossible, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited because I'm lazy and tired and I need to sleep. I'll read through this when I wake up.

“Did she tell you that, or what?” Winnie’s dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows were raised as her just about pitch black eyes were focused on her cousin, the sun slipping in through the large, barred window beside them and admitting that light that she sometimes craved thanks to the fact that the only window in her cell was tiny as fuck. The clock hadn’t even ticked past ten am yet, still the sun was strong enough that it could just as well have been the afternoon.

 

A few years ago, maybe she would have been annoyed with it because the rain and the darkness had been all she had ever craved - and in a way she supposed that it still was. However, in one month, she was out of this place. So maybe the sun wasn’t too far off for her anymore. At least that’s how she felt in this moment. As strange as it was for the sun to be out this forcefully this close to winter.

 

The orange jumpsuit sat on her body, just a little bit tighter now than it had a few months ago. That was probably a good thing, too. Considering the way that her bones had been poking out of her skin when she had first gotten locked up in this place. Her long, dark hair was tied up into a ponytail at the back of her head, the strands brushed for once, trailing down over her shoulder a little bit, some of it all staying against her back.

 

Two of the skinny, brown fingers on her right hand were somewhat pinched together, holding the unlit cigarette in place. It felt comfortable to hold it despite the fact that she couldn’t light it just yet. Winnie’s thick lips were parted, displaying some of her perfect, white teeth - however the hell she had managed to keep that color through everything - while she waited for Drew to open his mouth and answer her question.

 

“No, but I mean it’s kind of obvious, yeah? I’m thinking…” Jayme wasn’t listening to the conversation. Well… maybe he was listening to some kind of a degree, but not as much as he normally would when he and Drew would go to visit Winnie together - which honestly didn’t happen half as much as it should these days; they should really start doing it more often.

 

Jayme was sitting next to the other man, but instead of looking ahead and at Winnie, his eyes were focused down onto his own hands, just moving his rings around absentmindedly, toying a little bit with the cheap leather and string that made up his bracelets. His face was neutral, his mouth not pulled up into a ridiculously large grin, no matter how he currently felt on the inside. The shock blue hair was brushed and pushed back by one of his many black beanies, only some of the blue color visible in the front.

 

A plain, light grey muscle tee covered his upper body, placed underneath his regular, thin leather jacket, the sleeves pushed up towards his elbows. The black jeans that were wrapped around his thin, long legs were somewhat less distressed than the kind he would wear for the most part, only having a few rips in one of the knees, exposing the fading tattoos on the pale skin.

 

The Dr. Martens combat boots that were as always on his feet were tightly laced around his ankles to keep them in place despite their somewhat too large size. His feet were planted onto the cement floor in the visiting room as he continued looking down at his hands, his tongue playing a little bit absentmindedly with one of the plates of his piercings, his mind drifting in and out of the room.

 

Jayme wasn’t usually that guy - the guy that wasn’t participating in a conversation, or the guy who was sitting to the side, drowning in his own mind with his own thoughts, but for some reason, today that was exactly who he was. The large adams-apple in his throat moved a little bit while he swallowed, his mind drifting back to last night, the edges of his mouth twitching, though he fought the smile coming on.

 

Jayme had never been the kind of person to over analyze something. He wasn’t one to try to somehow turn something inside out just to find a reason, when odds were that there wasn’t one. This thing - whatever ‘this thing’ was - that he had with Mickey, it wasn’t different. Jayme didn’t feel the need to spend hours thinking about why he felt like this, or what it was about this guy that made him different from all of the other guys he met on a regular basis. Jayme didn’t really care about why he liked Mickey - he just cared that he did. And it was difficult to keep himself from grinning down at his hands like a flipping idiot, because last night had been… kind of perfect.

 

“Jaym, the fuck are you grinning about over there anyway? You look bloody crazy” Mission impossible, he supposed. Jayme raised his shoulders a little bit into a shrug, wiping most of the happy expression off of his face for now while he looked up to meet the large, dark eyes in front of him, Drew also looking at him from the side while they both waited for the blue haired man to talk, to answer.

 

The problem was that Jayme wasn't all too sure that he wanted to. There was something kind of… nice about keeping this just between himself and Mickey for now. For one, they had only actually kissed one time. Well - so very many times, but only on one occasion. For another, Jayme still wasn’t sure what was going on with Mickey’s background, or what was up with his ex boyfriend - not that he would ever really push him to tell him before he was ready.

 

Besides… Jayme was uncertain he would love hearing about the guy that Mickey had been so obviously in love with once upon a time - maybe he still was. How was Jayme supposed to know? No - Jayme wasn’t the kind of person to be jealous exactly, but that didn’t mean that he had to love hearing about those things. Though, of course he could and would listen if Mickey decided that he would want to talk about it at one point or another.

 

“Did something finally happen with you and Mickey?” Drew was - of course - the one to crack Jayme’s wall and find out the truth. For a minute or so, it was quiet around the table. Jayme was still wondering if he should try to wave it off and say ‘nah nah, get your minds out of the fucking gutter’ but in the end - that would quite obviously be a lie, and though Jayme could easily not say anything - lying was another thing. And he didn’t lie, not to Drew or Winnie, and he had made that promise to himself a long time ago. So finally, he rolled his eyes and he fought his smile again, his head moving up and down once or twice.

 

“I knew it! Your roommate, you filthy cow! Was he any good, then?” A large grin grew onto Winnie’s face as she exclaimed the words, her elbow resting on the table with the cigarette still sitting in between her fingers, making her look even more sassy somehow. Her eyebrows were raised while she waited for the answer, just as Drew was, looking as him with an excited smirk on his face, honey blonde locks collected up into a high bun on top of his head, dark, ash blonde eyebrows raised. “Come on, spill it” Jayme’s tongue darted out, swiping across his bottom lip as he shook his head.

 

“No, quit it. We didn’t fuck, alright?” Jayme admitted finally, with another shrug of his shoulders as he watched his friends’ faces fall into confusion. “We just kissed” It wasn’t as if he didn’t hear the fact that he sounded like a fifteen yearold girl - well, the words at least, the deep pitch of his voice could never be mistaken as such - but he had known Drew and Winnie for so many years, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

 

They both stared at him for a second, one of them frowning and the other one picking at her perfectly square, long nails while they both stayed silent, processing. Understandably so - Jayme had always been the kind of person to jump into bed with someone the second he met them, no matter what he may seem like. He just rarely saw a reason to wait, and it had been even worst back when he and Winnie had been on all of those drugs and shit, because his sense of right and wrong had been so clouded that he couldn’t remember half of the guys’ names.

 

It wasn’t as if he had any regrets about it, really. Not now, it was all in the past. But that didn’t mean that that was who he wanted to be now. Especially not with Mickey. Had Mickey had less of a complicated backstory and had the shadow of his ex boyfriend - whoever Ian was - not been hanging above them, well then Jayme probably wouldn’t have stopped them both from sleeping together last night.

 

It had been really fucking difficult to push him away - of course it had been. But Jayme didn’t want to wake up and realize that Mickey was still in love with someone else. As selfish as that might be. So Jayme had asked for them to wait, and now they were. Waiting - that was. And it actually felt… kind of good. It was something new for Jayme, and he wasn’t sure, but he could imagine that it was something new for Mickey too. It was a good thing. It felt like a good thing.

 

“Lame, mate” Drew elbowed his best friend in the side, getting a slight punch back. Then they were all onto the next topic.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey was gnawing a little bit at the inside of his top lip, his chest stirring uncomfortable as he waited. For some reason, this was proving to be a far more nerve-wracking thing to do than he had imagined. The clock was ticking closer and closer towards three pm, and he was sitting on the couch, leaning his back against the armrest. His own black v neck sat around his upper body, the fabric just a little bit too thin for the temperature in the apartment, but right now he was too focused on other shit to bother getting a sweatshirt.

 

He had also snatched a pair of Jayme’s large, grey sweatshirt shorts, the somewhat thick fabric landing right by his knees thanks to their large difference in height. A pair of socks were on his feet as well, being practically the only piece of clothing that actually helped with keeping him at a somewhat good temperature. This apartment was incredibly shitty in terms of staying warm of staying cold.

 

This morning, it had been alright, but then the sun had been covered by clouds outside, the temperature sinking, which meant that it did the same inside. Mickey didn’t even want to think about how fucking hot it got in the middle of summer, but then again, the cement that covered the floor and the walls was pretty much always freezing, so it probably wasn’t all too bad on that side of it all.

 

Whatever random cartoon that Mickey had landed on when he had flipped through all the channels a few minutes ago was still playing on the large television, but he wasn’t listening to what was actually happening. He was way too focused on what was about to happen, and he couldn’t stop staring at the device on the coffee table in front of him, just waiting.

 

Waiting for his phone to light up again after so long of being out of batteries. Mickey wasn’t all too sure whether he should be happy or annoyed that he had managed to find Jayme’s charger so fucking easily. This was something that he really would have liked to put off for a little while longer - turning his phone on. Seeing who had tried to reach him and what they wanted - getting a bunch of reminders of what his life used to be. Before jail, and before Rockford.

 

Before Jayme.

 

Mickey didn’t know if he would like the reminders or not, but either way, he still had responsibilities, and he had been putting this off for way too long by now. It wasn’t a good thing. However - the main thing that scared Mickey wasn’t that he might find a hundred texts from Ian begging for his forgiveness - no matter how unlikely that slight possibility was.

 

The main thing that scared Mickey wasn’t that he might find fifty missed calls and voicemails from Svetlana, yelling at him about where the fuck her money was or where he was hiding out. Mickey’s main thing that he was scared of wasn’t that he would find a bunch of texts from his brothers or from Ian’s family, or from whoever the fuck. No.

 

The main thing that scared Mickey? It was that the second that that screen turned white and then grey, then he would find out. He would find out if anybody even noticed that he was gone, out of that jail cell and out of Chicago. Yes - when that screen turned white, it was a possibility that Mickey could find a bunch of txts and calls and voicemails. But what if he didn’t? What if he wouldn’t? What if… what if just… what if no one gave a shit? Simple as that. These were fears, of course, that Mickey would never verbally admit to having - but they were there. They were.

 

Mickey continued gnawing at the inside of his top lip, still completely unable to take his eyes off of the black screen. His hair was messed up, looking fucked since he hadn’t even touched it, but instead he had just let it dry in the air from the shower he had grabbed this morning. It was becoming just a little bit longer than h normally liked it, but right now, at this point in his life, he had more important things to worry about than his hair.

 

More important things to worry about than that fucking curl that had somehow appeared at the front of it, holy fuck, what was it even doing? Why couldn’t it just be flat like the rest of the black strands, and - Mickey jumped a little bit at the buzzing that came from his phone, looking back down at the device instead up upwards, towards the hair on his head.

 

The screen was white now, starting to shake back to life. Maybe it was a stupid thing to be nervous about, but Mickey couldn’t help it. He had ignored this and ignored it and pushed it further and further into the future, but he needed to reconnect with his life, even if it was just a little bit. It wasn’t as if he just had a couple of brothers that he could let go of - he had responsibilities.

 

Whether he liked it or not. So Mickey gathered up his courage, and he reached forwards to wrap his hand around the phone, lifting it, the annoying noise of the cartoons still echoing all throughout the livingroom as he punched in his passcode - thank fucking god he had been smart enough to get one, and that he could remember it.

 

For a moment - there was just nothing. Silence. A normal screen. No missed calls, no text messages. Nothing that said ‘Hey, Mickey. I notice that you’re gone’. Mickey could feel his heart sink, even if it was just a little bit. So he swallowed, and he opened his eyes a little bit more for a second, trying to get himself back on track while he stared down at the screen, his lips slightly parted, the device suddenly feeling very heavy where it laid inside of his palm. Then it came. Just one buzz. One missed text message. From Iggy.

 

Hey, man. Haven’t seen you around for a bit, hope you’re doing fine.

 

That was it. No messages from Ian, no messages from Svetlana… No messages from Mandy. Mickey did appreciate his older brother noticing his absence, of course he did. And he supposed that on some kind of degree, he should be thankful that his so called wife hadn’t called to push him for a bunch of money or some shit - and yes, maybe he had, on some kind of ridiculous level - hoped against hope that Ian would have changed his mind by now. That wasn’t healthy - and Mickey knew this. He was with Jayme now. Ian was his past.

 

Jayme was his future. Truthfully - it only took one slight thought of Jayme for Mickey to feel a little bit better about it all. For his frown to become a little bit less deep. Jayme with his childish fucking smile, deep, sexy voice and ridiculous hair.

 

Mickey did have somebody who cared for him, and he shouldn’t have to be worried about the people who didn’t. Yet - fuck. There it was. Mickey’s reason to feel like shit once again. He had someone to care for him. Someone to kiss who would kiss him back, but - Mandy. Mickey tried not to think about Mandy too much, because it hurt. It hurt so fucking badly.

 

Somehow he had convinced himself that whenever he re-started his phone, there would be a message from her. That’s what he would have liked. A quick heads up that she was alright, and that she had somehow gotten out of her relationship with that fucking abusive sleezebag. But there it was - save for Iggy’s message, the blank screen.

 

The one that screamed at Mickey that this was all his fault. That he should have done something to save her - he couldn’t even be the slightest sure that she was alive by now, who the fuck knew? The Milkovich’s had never had the best luck in any sense of the word. But Mickey should have helped her. He just should have. But now it was too late.

 

Mickey shook his head a little bit to himself, locking his phone once again and throwing it to the side, pressing the button on the remote to turn up the volume of the cartoons, hoping that it would help drown out some of the scary and sad thoughts that were currently clouding his brain. Fuck. He leaned his head backwards, wincing when he hit the cement surface a little bit too hard. Then he sighed, his tongue darting out to lick across his dry bottom lip while he mindlessly watched the cartoons, waiting for Jayme to come back.

 

  
***

 

  
It wasn’t until probably almost one or two hours later that Mickey started hearing the steps outside in the stairwell - should it be pathetic that he knew exactly which steps were Jayme’s already? Possibly. They were heavy and somewhat echoey, carrying a certain melody to them somehow - so yes. Mickey knew what steps were his and which weren’t, but so fucking what? It wasn’t as if he could just forget it.

 

As the sounds outside of the door continued, Mickey stayed seated back against the couch, eyes focused on whatever shitty ass reality show was currently on the television screen - not that he was following, or even remotely enjoyed that shit. Getting nervous about seeing Jayme was stupid, it was. But Mickey couldn’t really help it. They hadn’t seen each other since they had gone to bed last night - well, this morning - neither of them had gotten more than a few hours of sleep after… that. Jayme had been out of the apartment before Mickey had woken up, although probably not much before, considering the fact that the coffee in the pot had still been hot enough to wake Mickey up.

 

This was all so very incredibly strange. Having this again. Having someone that he liked this much, having someone he could kiss that he knew would kiss him back. It had been so long since he had had these kinds of feelings - the kind of… well, not love. Mickey wasn’t feeling that yet, obviously. It was way too early for him to determine whether he would ever end up actually falling in love with Jayme.

 

But this kind of affection without really any large amount of pain or heartbreak attached to it - the last year with Ian had been… messy, to say the least. So love aside in between them, there had been a lot of pain and a lot of confusion. Mickey didn’t have that with Jayme right now. Things were simple. No - Mickey’s life wasn’t simple overall, and he doubted that Jayme’s was very simple either, but the two of them - it was. At least that’s what Mickey was hoping for. Last night had been kind of a blur - a good kind of blur, but still. And now, seeing him in daylight after all of that… Mickey was just a little bit nervous about it, that was all.

 

But needless to say - as always - as soon as Jayme entered the apartment, all of that nervousness just somehow washed off of Mickey. His tall skinny frame walked through the door, and he didn’t look at Mickey at first, instead he was focused on closing the door behind himself and locking it, dropping his bag to the floor with a slight sigh that suggested that it was just as heavy as it looked to be.

 

Mickey continued watching the television for a beat, although staying very aware of his presence. His legs were pulled up onto the couch, his back pressed against the back of the couch, his posture relaxed. Then he heard the steps walking towards him and he turned his head, seeing the casual grin on Jayme’s face as he made his way over the cold, cement floor. The beanie was still sitting on his head, holding the blue strands back into it, some of the sunlight catching the metal of his snakebites and the ring in his nose, the material glimmering somehow. His tiny upper body was covered in one of his many grey muscle tees, the fabric ending right at the middle of his thighs.

 

“Hey, man” Maybe Mickey should have said something else - something more. After all, the last time they had looked each other into the eyes had been when they had finally parted their lips after hours of making out, of eating each other’s faces - so maybe seeing each other in broad daylight should be strange - awkward, but it felt normal - somewhat tense, sure. But not in a bad way.

 

“Hey” Jayme’s dark, husky voice spoke back. Mickey still hadn’t quite gotten used to the way he pronounced certain things - even if it was just something as small as that casual word, and he hoped that he never would.

 

A lot of things about Jayme were appealing - the way he walked, the way he dressed, the words he used when he talked, the way he had the courage to keep that ridiculous blue hair on top of his head, no matter who might look at him for it - but nothing beat his voice. The dark pitch and the deep, interesting, australian accent. Mickey had never really thought about anybody’s voice before. Not before Jayme, but something about the sound just seemed to draw him to him. Before Mickey could even really react all too much, Jayme bent down and placed his large, slim hand around the side of his roommate’s neck, pressing their lips together in a soft - somewhat chaste - but amazing kiss.

 

Mickey’s eyes fell closed, his bottom lip slipping in between Jayme’s, the men just somehow relaxing into each other and enjoying it for the few seconds that it lasted. Then Jayme pulled away, their eyes blinking open and connecting, neither of them able to keep the happy - though small - smiles off of their faces. They were still close - so close, in fact - that Mickey could see the tiny specks of brown that made Jayme’s eyes hazel rather than just green.

 

“Can’t imagine getting tired of that” Jayme sighed darkly, his breath fanning Mickey’s parted lips, the younger man just humming once, letting him know that he felt the exact same way. It was strange - incredibly strange - to have strong feelings like this again, to feel like this about someone who wasn’t Ian.

 

And it probably should have felt wrong to kiss someone else’s lips, but it didn’t. It felt good, and it felt right and Mickey was finally starting to consider the idea that maybe - just maybe - he actually deserved this somehow. Then, a second or so later, Jayme pulled away completely and started to straighten up again. However, immediately Mickey fisted the material of his shirt, tugging him back down.

 

“Fuck no, that’s not enough. Come here” A few, low chuckles sounded in the base of Jayme’s throat as their lips parted some more, their tongues soon pressing against each other’s as they relaxed into one another, still having a hard time fighting the smiles on their faces for long enough to actually keep a proper kiss going. Mickey kept his left hand on Jayme’s chest, curling around the fabric and tugging him as close as he could possibly come, his right arm wrapped around his waist at the same time as he eased himself back to lay down, Jayme pushing his weight on top of him to help.

 

All the while, their eyes stayed closed, lips moving against each other, almost as if they had been doing this since forever - but then again, they had had quite a lot of practice last night.

 

Jayme’s taste was - to Mickey - nothing if not completely and utterly intoxicating. Thanks to his quite obvious coffee addiction, there was a slight tinge of that still left on his tongue, mixed together with some kind of subtle hint of mint, and then there was the third flavor - the one that was nothing. Nothing except for pure Jayme, and most likely - that was the part that Mickey craved the most.

 

Their lips covered each other’s, their saliva mixing together, something stirring quite violently in the base of their stomachs. Something that told them that this was right. This, them. Now. Whether it would be right tomorrow or in a year, or ten remained to see, but neither of them cared, because in this moment - it was just that. Right.

 

Mickey was soon laying completely flat back onto the couch, Jayme on top of him, his long, skinny legs bent a little bit at the knee. His large, tattoo and metal covered hands rested surprisingly softly at the sides of Mickey’s face, his thumbs placed on his chin, just below his bottom lip as Jayme went in for even more, craving Mickey. Something about the way that Mickey talked, and the way he walked - something about those beautifully thick pair of lips and those bright pair of blue eyes that just somehow burned into your soul - all of it just added up to Jayme being completely crazy about him.

 

Mickey’s hands stayed above Jayme’s waist despite the fact that the kiss deepened, the wet sounds of their lips meeting over and over again soon almost drowning out the sound of the cartoons that were currently playing on the television once again. Mickey could easily reach down and try to undo Jayme’s jeans - god fucking knows he would have liked to - but at the same time, he also kind of didn’t. This whole waiting thing was kind of cool. So he continued tugging at the grey fabric of his shirt, their legs tangling together a little bit.

 

Jayme’s large nose dug into Mickey’s cheek, the cool metal of the ring present just as his snakebites pressed against Mickey’s lower lip, more and more for every second that they made out. ‘Can’t imagine getting tired of that’ Jayme had just said a minute or two ago - fuck, that was the most true words that Mickey had heard in a long time, this was intoxicating. Completely and utterly.

 

The way that his large hands rested around his face, holding him in place as he devoured his mouth with his own. The way that his weight felt secure and perfect on top of him, and the way that the slight, dark hums that sounded in the base of his throat just made everything even better. Jesus fuck. No. Mickey would never be able to grow tired of Jayme. Never. He was… perfect in so many ways. And yet so fucking flawed, and - yeah, the flaws just made him return back to the very definition of perfect.

 

One, skinny strand of blue hair slipped out of Jayme’s beanie, tickling Mickey’s forehead at the same time as Mickey started to feel something digging into his back.

 

“Fuck, fuck. Wait” Swollen lips parted as Mickey frowned, Jayme shifting his weight a little bit, watching the man underneath him reach for whatever was seemingly digging into his back. Soon, Mickey dropped a phone onto the coffee table, sighing slightly in relief.

 

“That yours?” Jayme asked, now somewhere in between sitting and laying on top of his roommate, his hands resting by his collarbones as they both looked towards the device.

 

“Yeah” Mickey sighed. “Thought I’d charge it, see if someone called me since I’ve been out or whatever” He shrugged as best as he could lying down, moving his face from the device up to the beautiful man on top of him, seeing the studs in his bottom lip move around a little bit as he played with the plates in thought, their eyes connecting. Mickey could see the question, so he answered it without it having to have been asked verbally. “One quick text from my brother” Jayme nodded, and maybe it was the tone in Mickey’s voice, or maybe it was the fact that they somehow knew each other now, but he could tell that the younger man had been hoping for something more.

 

“Sorry, Mickey” Mickey shrugged once again, sighing a little bit as he reached forwards, wrapping his hands around Jayme’s skinny thighs, gently tugging him forwards as the air in the livingroom lightened once again.

 

“’S cool. Don’t need ‘em right now. I got you” Jayme’s grin at that was just about blinding, Mickey finding it hard not to mirror it.

 

“Yeah” Jayme agreed, laying back down on top of Mickey. “Yeah, you got me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Both of my fics have been updated, so I am officially back!! I hope that this chapter was somewhat good. I know a couple of you have been asking for Jayme's point of view, and I still don't want to spoil anything, but you got some in this chapter, so I hope that it was good enough for now. Things won't stay super sweet for very long, because well... this is my fic and we all know I'm a complete angst monster. Anyway - as always, comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated, as are the sweet messages some of you send to my tumblr, it truly all makes me so happy, especially for this story. 
> 
> I'm wishing you all an amazing day! <3


	15. 'Round Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie stared down at the cold cement floor of her cell, leaning her back against the bars as she folded her legs. Her tiny, brown hands were resting in her lap against the orange fabric. Her face was blank, not showing a single sign of the horrific pictures that were inside of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the violence warning. (Also, this is unedited, because... I'm not even gonna bother with an excuse lmao. I'm lazy, okay? I love writing, I hate editing. Also it's like 1am right now)

_The deep, dark, brown eyes were shut as she breathed deeply, forcing as much of the drug down into her lungs as she possibly could. The cool, stone wall of the alley was cool against her all but bare back, a contrast against the warmth filling her lungs._

 

_The only things on her body were her sneakers, a pair of dark jeans and her thin, white tank top. It was way too little for a cold night like this one, but she was too gone to really care, and she had been for a long time._

 

_At some point, there had been makeup on her face, but it had been a few days since she had bothered to put it on, so by now the only product remaining was some slight, black smudge around her eyes, and maybe a little bit of mascara. The color was since long gone from her lips, leaving the somewhat pale, yet still brown color bare._

 

_One of her legs were folded by the knee, foot planted onto the cold, hard ground while her left leg was stretched out carelessly in front of her. The large, thick hoop earrings reached all the way down to her shoulders, though the jewellery wasn’t very visible through the thick strands of unbrushed, un-cared for dark hair. At some point in her life, there had been some natural curl to it, but it wasn’t there anymore._

 

_Her throat started drying out a little bit and she coughed a few times, her eyes staying closed before she brought the joint back up to her lips, forcing more of the drug into her body, knowing that it would help her feel better. For now._

 

_The night had fallen since long, the clock probably ticking towards two or three am. Or maybe it was even five already, she had no possible way of checking, and why should she? It wasn’t as if she had anywhere to be._

 

_She would return back to Drew’s place soon enough, she just needed a few more minutes to herself. In the middle of the night in an alley wasn’t optimal, but she took what she could get. The thin layer of sweat that had appeared on her skin while she had been fucked by that guy was now starting to dry up - what was his name again? David? Or Daniel? She couldn’t remember, and quite frankly - she didn’t care._

 

_They had done what they wanted with each other, and then he had walked away, leaving her alone in the alley to get stoned by herself - how was that not the perfect deal? In her opinion, and at this point in her life, and as long as she was cool with everything that went on, it kind of was. She brought the joint back up to her lips once more, taking a large, deep breath and feeling some more of the smoke fill her lungs, calming her down._

 

_As some of the drug slipped out through her nose, she let her eyes flutter open once again, her head still leaning back against the stone wall. The first thing she registered in her brain as she started to use her eyes again, was - of course - the darkness. It surrounded her just about completely. The ground, the sky, the walls. There was one light, though - that one, crappy ass streetlight that was quite a bit away from her out in the street, blinking wildly, surely on its way to death._

 

_However, that light did make Winnie see the figure that was walking towards her. She couldn’t see it all too well, of course, but she saw it was a man. Dressed in a large jacket and maybe a pair of jeans - probably around her own age. She had never been much of a person to lose the plot for no reason, so she just stayed seated; she had lifted her head off of the wall for a second to look, but now she leaned back again, waiting for the guy to pass her._

 

_Winnie’s body was relaxed, her brain heavily impacted by the weed, along with some of the remaining effects of the stronger shit despite the fact that she hadn’t been on it in a few days - maybe that was the reason why it took her quite a few minutes before she realized that the guy had reached her, and he had stopped walking. Winnie blinked up at him, eyes flushed completely red by the different substances that were currently in her system._

 

_She couldn’t tell much about the guy looking down at her, but something about his eyes said that she had seen him before - probably just in passing._

 

_“Keep walking, mate” Was all Winnie sighed, shaking her head a little bit and lifting the joint back up to her lips once more, blinking back down onto the ground by her feet. Her body was heavy - not in a scary way, just in a nice way. Heavy and relaxed, an effect that weed had always had on her. The feeling was even more intense now since she had other shit in her veins as well. “I’m not a harlot or some shit, I said keep walking” Winnie growled, making her voice even a little bit deeper, starting to become annoyed with the guy standing in front of her, especially since he wasn’t talking or anything. He was probably just staring at her tits or some shit - fucking creep._

 

_“You’re David’s chick, right?” The accent was plain, flat and American - something that probably also drove Winnie roll her eyes. Maybe the fact that she only ever really talked to Drew and Jayme - who had accents as deep and as prominent as they came - should make her more interested in hearing other american accents, but it always just seemed flat, boring. Sure - she hung out with a lot of people who weren’t from Australia or from Britain, but the only words that were ever really exchanged were ‘Pass the blunt’ or ‘You got money?’ or ‘Want to fuck?’._

 

_“I’m not anybody’s chick, now get your twat ass out of here” Winnie’s voice was still a little bit deeper than usual, laced with annoyance. All she wanted to do was sit here and get stoned, have a few minutes by herself - was that too much to ask? Fucking hell. For a moment, she actually believed that she heard the feet in front of her move, and some kind of weight lessened on her chest - it didn’t last very long, though._

 

_Because then, there it was again - that voice. Only now the guy - Xavier, she believed his name was; she recognized him now as she looked up again - was speaking a little bit less casually. It sounded less like he just happened to stumble upon her and more like he had been planning to. Like he wanted something with her._

 

_“Twat ass? I’ve never heard that one before. How about you get up and we’ll have some fun” The words were a question, but the tone of the guys’ voice was anything but. He sounded like a snake, or a… tiger. A puma. Despite that Winnie was slowly but surely starting to realize that maybe she wasn’t in the safest moment, all of the drugs running throughout her veins were making her slow - not just physically, but especially mentally. Maybe it should have taken her five seconds to realize that she should try to get the fuck out of there, but it took a lot longer. It was almost as if her brain was trudging through chewing gum._

 

_“No, told you to get the fuck out of here. Don’t want your tiny ass cock” With the words, Winnie somehow managed to get up onto her feet again, albeit wobbling a little bit as she did, her head starting to tell her to slow down with a low throbbing. She wasn’t completely out of it or anything, but she surely wasn’t sober. Which was why she didn’t have the reflexes to react before the guy had her slammed up against the wall, the touch surface scratching the soft skin of her back, dirtying the white fabric of her thin tank top. “Get the fuck off me”_

 

_Winnie tried to push at his chest as she felt one of his hands cup her chest, her entire body saying no, her cheeks starting to ache with an overwhelming need to throw up. She couldn’t see much in the darkness, because they had managed to move a little bit out of the streetlight, that fact just making the experience that much more terrifying._

 

_“You can stop fighting it, everyone knows you. I know you. You take all the cocks you can get, stop pretending you’re not gonna like it, just shut up” Winnie wasn’t crying, and the overwhelming feeling that was pouring throughout her body wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t defeat. She was angry. Pissed off to no fucking end - she decided. She fucked who she wanted. She didn’t fuck everyone. She decided. This was supposed to be her decision. Not anybody else’s._

 

_Thanks to the fact that she was maybe at least an inch taller than the guy, she had some kind of power, but he was still strong as fuck and it took a lot of strength out of her to try to continue fighting him when he tried to reach down for her jeans. She could feel the wall behind her scratch up even more of her skin, her nails surely getting some blood under them as she tore at whatever skin of his she could get a hold of, trying to somehow get loose, get out of this situation._

 

_Her body was tense, fists beating at his clothed chest when she finally realized it - when she felt the small, helpful outline in the back pocket of her jeans, realizing that she could get out of this. Easily. Thank fucking fuck. The guy continued holding her, fighting her and trying to get her to stay still long enough for him to do what he wanted as he threw different insults at her - Winnie wasn’t listening. Instead she tore her right arm free, reaching into her pocket and folding the knife open, ending it all._

 

  
***

 

  
The darkness had since long fallen outside of the large window in the apartment. Mickey could just barely decipher the sound of small, tiny raindrops falling onto the glass every now and then, but it wasn’t pouring by any means.

 

It just happened once in a while. Enough to be calming, but the sound wasn’t really a constant. Mickey had his eyes focused onto the large television in front of him, the apartment filled with that special, flickering light and the sound of the movie that they had landed on when they had sat down a few minutes ago. His legs were falling comfortably off the edge of the couch, his left hand curled around a half-empty can of root beer, resting on the arm-rest of the couch.

 

Jayme’s old Of Mice & Men shirt sat on Mickey’s upper body, a clothing piece he had taken a liking to - mostly because it looked like something he could easily have found in his own closet. He should really try to figure out a way to get some of his own stuff back, though - especially if he wasn’t planning on returning back to Chicago soon.

 

Which was something that he still didn’t want to dwell on, because it was way too complicated. Returning to Chicago could mean no more Jayme, but staying here meant that he would continue to ignore his life and his responsibilities, and - no. Mickey decided. It was stupid to get wrapped up in that shit, especially on a good night like this one. He had a movie on the television screen, a pizza on the way and Jayme next to him - it was a good night, and he wouldn’t ruin it for himself by thinking. It wasn’t worth it.

 

Mickey lifted his can of root beer to his lips, taking a gulp of the drink before lowering his hand again, focusing on the movie for a moment before he turned his head, just looking at Jayme. He wasn’t sure why, and maybe it was stupid, or maybe it was girly or whatever the fuck, but he just liked looking at him. Once in a while - well, more than once in a while - he still got that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

The one that reminded him that this wasn’t really his life, that Jayme wasn’t really his - well, Mickey wasn’t sure if he could say that this quickly anyway, it had only been two days since they had kissed for the very first time - regardless, Jayme was way too good for someone like Mickey. Yeah, Jayme had made his mistakes, had his struggles - but he had a good heart. Mickey?

 

Mickey didn’t know who he was. It sounded so basic, but it was the truth. Was he a good guy, was he a bad guy, was he just some worthless thug, what? He didn’t know. But he did know that whatever he was, it wasn’t anywhere close to as good as Jayme was - Jayme was… kind. And sweet, and everything that Mickey could possibly ask for, so of course the day would come when Jayme realized that Mickey didn’t deserve him.

 

Maybe it would be in a week or in a year, but the day would surely come. And when it did - no. Mickey had to mentally slap himself again. This kind of though trail was exactly what he had been trying to hard to fight in the past few weeks. Mickey’s mind was a fucking swamp of self-loathing, and he had to do his best not to drown in it. He knew this.

 

So instead Mickey pushed all of the depressing thoughts out of his head, and he just continued looking. Jayme was sitting right next to him, looking straight ahead at the television in front of himself. The blue strands of hair were as usual collected into that small, ridiculous bun on top of his head; Mickey wasn’t sure why he even bothered, it couldn’t help much. Most of it fell out and covered his face anyway.

 

The flickering light from the television screen fell onto his face, making Mickey see his piercings even more clearly than he usually did. The small studs below his bottom lip and the ring in the side of his nose; his nose was actually quite large for his face. Way too large. It didn’t look perfect at all, and Mickey kind of liked it because of that fact. Sometimes Mickey would let it cross his mind that maybe Jayme was his chance somehow. His chance to… to be better.

 

To have a better life, to have a life filled with less mistakes and less regrets than he currently did. But then he started questioning whether he deserved it, and then the race car that was his brain started speeding down the road that he knew up and down and back and forth by now. The one filled with painful memories of Mandy, and Ian, and Yevgeny. Even Svetlana. So he shut his brain off again - or at least tried to. Mickey was tugged back to earth when Jayme turned his head to look at his roommate, their eyes connecting.

 

“What?” The ’T’ sound was nowhere to be found in the darkly murmured word as Jayme looked into Mickey’s eyes, both of their faces settled into casual, relaxed expressions. Jayme’s small upper body was drowning in one of his many grey henley’s, the three buttons opened to reveal some more of the ink on his chest. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, his bracelets off for now, resting on his nightstand inside of his bedroom.

 

His skinny, ink-covered fingers spun his rings around a little bit, a habit that he wasn’t really all too aware of anymore. His attention was focused on his roommate, eyes blinking slowly now and again.

 

The television was still on, both the light and the sound filling the livingroom, but neither of the men were focused on the movie. Jayme just looked back at Mickey, somehow entrances by how the flickering light from the television screen seemed to somehow highlight the shape of his lips - make them look even a little bit thicker than they already were.

 

He had to admit that the second that he had allowed himself to look at this man as something other than just a potential friend, that was the first thing that he had noticed. Mickey’s lips - maybe they were even more beautiful than his eyes, though that was a strong ‘maybe’. Their relationship - if you could call it that yet - was still incredibly new, and Jayme did his best not to show it all too much, but he was crazy about Mickey. There was no reason to try to figure out why that was - his feelings were just there. When they kissed, or when Mickey even just looked at him - like he was now. It was there, and it wasn’t worth fighting it. Not for a second.

 

Mickey didn’t answer Jayme’s question, and neither of them said anything for a beat. Then the younger man eased himself forwards, easily placing his hand on the side of Jayme’s neck, both pairs of eyes falling closed while their lips slipped in between one another’s. Jayme felt a low hum in the base of his own throat; it was completely involuntary to be honest, it just happened. Having Mickey’s lips on his own felt better than anything he had experienced in a long time. He responded immediately, bringing his own hand to the back of Mickey’s neck, feeling the soft, black hairs tickle his palm a little bit, matching the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

It wasn’t a very long kiss, or an incredibly passionate one; Mickey just pressed his parted lips against Jayme’s once, feeling some of their saliva mixing as he pulled away and went in for one more, a slight ‘smack’ sound appearing as they pulled away - their lips parted, at least, their eyes opening while their hands stayed around each other’s necks, eye contact being established in between them.

 

Jayme’s mouth pretty much immediately pulled upwards to form a smile, going back in once more, sucking Mickey’s lips in between his own with a few, dark and happy chuckles bouncing around in the base of his throat. It was impossible for Mickey to fight the smile that wanted to make itself onto his own lips while he responded to the kiss, feeling that bitter taste of coffee blend with the taste of mint, making for something that was purely Jayme. Maybe they were just at that easy stage in their… whatever this was so far - maybe they were at that stage where everything was good and they were happy and nothing could rock them - and maybe that stage wouldn’t last forever, but so what?

 

They were here now, so they might as well enjoy it while it did last. Mickey’s hand curled, tugging a little bit at the blue strands that were hanging down the back of Jayme’s neck, having since long fallen out of the tiny hairtie on top of his head; he felt the large hand at the back of his own do the same, the kiss deepening a little bit while still staying quite a bit away from the territory that they had both agreed they should stay away from for now.

 

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds before they were interrupted by the loud buzzing of the doorbell - it was supposed to be a doorbell, at least; to Mickey it sounded more like the kind of buzzing he had heard whenever the doors would open and close inside of the joint. Mickey pulled away with a disappointed sound, their hands dropping from each other again.

 

Of course it crossed his mind to just beg Jayme to ignore it so that they could keep kissing. How the fuck he had stayed away from that for so many years growing up, he didn’t understand. Fuck, it felt good. Especially with someone that he liked this fucking much. But ultimately - his stomach wasn’t only stirring because of his feelings for Jayme, it was also begging him for food, so he didn’t have much of a choice.

 

“Find something else to watch, man” Mickey told Jayme, nodding towards the television screen that was now showing commercials, the movie surely having reached its end during them focusing on each other instead. “I’ll get the pizza” He gave Jayme’s chest a lighthearted slap while he stood up, on his way to turning around to walk towards the front door.

 

“Wait, one more” However - of course he was pulled back down by those long ass arms wrapping around his waist, making him lose his balance. Jayme’s lips closed around his bottom one, tugging at it for a somewhat half-assed kiss that made Mickey snort, his heart starting to flutter in that cheesy ass way that made him feel like a chick or some shit - he didn’t dislike it, though. He couldn’t.

 

This time when their lips slipped apart, they both started chuckling, hot breaths fanning each other’s faces right before Mickey had to - quite literally - force himself to stand up and let go of Jayme. God fucking damn it.

 

Jayme’s teeth captured his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes still focused on Mickey while he walked away from the couch towards the front door. Things were obviously still new in between them - incredibly so - he didn’t know much, or anything really, about Mickey’s past or who or where he had been, yet he couldn’t help his feelings. And he couldn’t help the way that his brain seemed to shut off whenever they kissed or even just touched, the way he couldn’t focus on anything but Mickey. He was so fucking beautiful. Possibly damaged, too - just like himself.

 

Jayme, of course would like to know a lot more about this man that had somehow just found his way into his life a few weeks ago, but he didn’t want to ask for it, because he knew that there were stuff he wasn’t ready to tell him either. Maybe they would have time for that. Hopefully so. As Mickey opened the door to get the pizza, Jayme looked away and grabbed the remote for the television, focusing instead on finding some kind of movie or tv show that didn’t completely suck.

 

  
***

 

  
About an hour later, the pizza was completely gone along with several more cans of root beer, some random chick flick playing on the television screen that neither of them were interested in what so ever, but Jayme felt as if he had circled around all of the channels at least three times, and it was the best thing he could find, so it would have to do for now.

 

Mickey couldn’t even really be bothered to listen, if he were to be honest, instead he just sat on the couch, his left hand curled around one more can of root beer - in the beginning of staying here he had missed beer terribly, but now he didn’t, really. The root beer was fine - of course it didn’t really taste anything like actual beer what so ever, but maybe the sugar in the soda had slowly started to become his new addiction - not that the alcohol had ever been a real and true problem for him. Mickey listen the can up to his lips, his eyes lazily focused on the flickering television screen as he took a sip, swallowing the liquid.

 

The only sound in the dimly lit livingroom was really the murmuring television and the ever so slight ‘tick tick tick’ of the raindrops hitting the glass every now and again. It was all very calm, which was why Jayme’s loud - and incredibly dark - burp almost made Mickey jump in his seat.

 

“Fuck, man” Mickey had to chuckle, only looking at the television screen for a couple of more seconds before he had to turn his head to look at his roommate, noticing that his grin was large enough that his teeth were exposed, clearly amused by his own behavior. “That’as fucking intense”

 

“You’re just jealous” Jayme spoke somewhat childishly and absentmindedly, turning his head to his right and tugging his shirt a little bit down his shoulder, scratching mindlessly at some spot before he pulled the fabric back up, taking another gulp of his own root beer. Mickey snorted, turning back to focus at the television once again. It wasn’t many seconds that passed before he felt the cushion beside him move around, along with a weight landing on the side of his body.

 

For a beat, Mickey’s throat tightened and he wasn’t all too sure why - cuddling on the couch was something that was completely normal - besides, they had already kissed a bunch of times, so what was so strange? Why did it feel strange? Well - not strange as much as just foreign, he supposed. To him, it was as if simple affection was more meaningful than kissing - more meaningful than fucking - of course. It wasn’t at all to the point where he felt the need to push Jayme away, but his body did freeze along with his mind. Just… trying to ration it all out, trying to figure out how he felt in the moment.

 

One second passed, and then one more did. Three, four or five seconds passed - and then Mickey relaxed. He took somewhat of a deep breath, and just ignored that voice in his head that said he shouldn’t. Mickey lifted his arm up, letting Jayme crawl in even closer to him to rest his head on his shoulder. It felt… oddly normal. Uncomplicated. Mickey’s fingers fell into the blue hair, mindlessly running through a few of the strands, calming them both. Making them feel at home.

 

  
***

 

  
_“I said, get the - fuck - off of me” Winnie did her best to elbow the creep off of her, bringing the knife up to his chest, and then stabbing. The first couple of times she hit nothing by air, her brain still quite cloudy from everything she had been stupid enough to shoot and snort before she had gone out by herself. His hands were still on her body; grabbing her, squeezing her. Hurting her. Then -_

 

_“Oh, what the fuck, bitch?! You fucking - “ There it was. His chest; she managed to get the knife deep down into it a few times, feeling herself hit different… things. Holy fuck it felt strange - nothing like she would have ever imagined stabbing somebody would ever feel like._

 

_Though, in the moment, adrenaline was also coursing throughout her veins along with the substances, so she didn’t have much time to think anything through, really. She continued bringing the knife down into his chest, over and over and over again. It was way too dark for her to see any blood - she couldn’t even tell exactly where she was stabbing him - but she could soon feel her hand begin to slip a little bit, and she knew why that was. What the knife was becoming coated in. The man continued screaming, the noises somewhat muffled; Winnie couldn’t focus on much - couldn’t think about anything other than bringing this douchebag to the ground._

 

_Over and over and over again her knife went into his body; it became a little bit tougher for a second, and she thought that maybe she was in his arm, so she moved the knife a little bit more again._

 

_Suddenly - he wasn’t fighting anymore. He just fell backwards, the noises becoming groans more than anything else. Yet - maybe it was Winnie’s feisty personality, or maybe it was the cocaine and weed in her system - most likely it was all of it - but she didn’t stop. She shoved the body backwards and climbed on top of him, continuing to drive the knife into his body again and again and again. She angled it a little bit differently, knowing that she was now in the neck, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing. Some kind of wet sound filled her ears, her entire arms, her entire hands completely drowning in warm, thick, liquid. It was on her face too - or maybe those were tears, she wasn’t all too sure._

 

_The guy was long gone by now - she knew this somewhere inside of her. It was only a body now, nothing else. It wasn’t as if she was making a conscious decision to keep at it, she was just - her entire body was a wreck. Throbbing and shaking, tears pouring down her cheeks, her heart beating so fast against her ribcage that she could actually feel the pain from it._

 

_Then she just stopped. Winnie dropped the knife to the side of the body, and she crawled off of it, continuing to sob as she backed up against the wall again, crawling together into a little ball, her white tank top completely and utterly soaked in blood. Getting a hold of her phone through the slippery liquid was a difficult task, but somehow she got it, and she managed to press the contact name, holding the device up to her ear, sobs still escaping her lips._

 

_“Jaym? Kin - Kinnie, I fucked up”_

 

  
***

 

  
Winnie stared down at the cold cement floor of her cell, leaning her back against the bars as she folded her legs. Her tiny, brown hands were resting in her lap against the orange fabric. Her face was blank, not showing a single sign of the horrific pictures that were inside of her head.

 

Most of the other prisoners were asleep by now, but she couldn’t. Not tonight. It wasn’t often that that night haunted her - but when it did, the memory quite literally made her blood run cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos, as always mean a ton to me. I hope that you guys are still liking this, shit is gonna start happening in the next chapter, so get ready for that. I really need to sleep now. 
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	16. You're Still Clinging to that Notion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Boyfriend? Who the fuck said I was your boyfriend, man?” It was only when Mickey’s voice reached Jayme’s ears again that he realized what he had actually said. Jayme wasn’t much of a nervous or an anxious person - or the kind of person to stress about little slips he made throughout the day - but this? Yeah, this could be really fucking bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not unedited, what are you even talking about? Lmao, just kidding. I don't have time for that shit right now. It's like 2am. Enjoy this chapter, typos and all. Bye.

Mickey’s eyes were open, staring up into the ceiling of the somewhat bare apartment, his upper body drowning in that bleach washed purple sweatshirt that Jayme had lent him the very first time that he had ever entered. His lips were slightly parted, his mind running a million miles a minute, and possibly even a little bit more than that, if he was being honest.

 

The hour was probably somewhere in between four and five am, the sun not quite up in the sky yet, but the darkness that had been surrounding the town like a blanket was starting to ease up just a little bit. The livingroom was coated in silence, almost as if Mickey was the only person on earth, if only for a moment. His chest moved slowly up and down, the thick, black eyebrows furrowed, one of his arms folded behind his head.

 

It had been almost two days since he had charged his phone, only to find that the only person who had bothered acknowledge his absence was Iggy. Fucking Iggy of all people. No - Mickey wasn’t ungrateful, his brother was a good guy and to be truthful, he would have felt so much worse if his phone had been completely empty. It just kind of sucked that in between prison and ending up in Rockford, Mickey had been gone for months at this point, and nobody really seemed to have noticed that fact. Maybe it was pathetic that he was spending to much time dwelling on it, but he just couldn’t help it.

 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, or even what he had wanted to find - had he wanted an ‘Where are you?’ text from Svetlana, had he wanted an ‘I’m sorry, please come back to me’ text from Ian, or had he wanted an ‘I’m okay’ text from Mandy? Truthfully - probably all of them. He had wanted to find all of them, but no. None of them gave a shit - well, maybe Mandy did. Maybe she just couldn’t type, because - no. No, Mickey was not going there, he wasn’t thinking about that. Not right now.

 

And Mickey knew that it wasn’t fair at all to wish for a text from Ian when he was together with Jayme. Jayme was amazing, and Jayme was kind and sweet, and hot, and - well, not perfect. But perfect for Mickey.

 

So why was Ian Gallagher still inside of Mickey’s brain even one single bit? It was possible it made sense, he supposed. Jayme aside - Mickey and Ian had been through a lot of shit together. It had been only about six months since their official split - he guessed, at least. It was still early in the morning, and he didn’t really feel like counting anything.

 

They had been slipping before that, of course. And even if Mickey had tried to fight it off and tried to get Ian to love him again, he had known that their break up was traveling closer and closer to them even before that moment on the Gallagher porch. Mickey didn’t want Ian back - not consciously, at least. Maybe he hadn’t even been wishing for a ‘please come back’ text. Maybe he just wanted an ‘I’m sorry I was such a jackass’ or ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out’.

 

Then again - why should Ian be the person to send it? He had been sick, still was as far as Mickey knew. Mickey had done a fuck ton of stupid shit to Ian over the years, and he wasn’t sick. So there was no point, really. Mickey wishing for an apology from Ian was just… fucked up, he realized the more that he thought about it.

 

Mickey did have those moments where that voice inside of his head echoed, of course - told him that he was a failure and that he didn’t deserve shit. And he had those moments where he realized that Ian was to blame as well. That Ian had done some fucked up shit and that maybe Mickey wasn’t as much of a train wreck as he thought the was.

 

Those were the two feelings he battled in between in this fucked up mess, and a lot of the time it was something in between the two. Did it matter, though? Really? Either way, Mickey and Ian were broken up, living their own lives now. Ian was doing whatever and Mickey was with Jayme - and although it was extremely new, still. They hadn’t even been together for more than a few days, things were good. It wasn’t fair whatsoever to Jayme that Mickey was still laying awake early in the morning, contemplating his ex boyfriend. Fuck knows that Mickey would be annoyed if it was the other way around.

 

So with that realization, Mickey let out an annoyed breath - he was annoyed with himself, annoyed with this whole fucking situation or whatever the fuck it deserved to be called - and he brought his right hand up to his face, running it over his features once, attempting to rub some of the sleep out of his skin before he eased himself to sit up, blinking tiredly as the grey, early morning light poured in through the large window. The sun was nowhere to be seen, really, but it was still way too bright after staring up into a dark ceiling for several minutes.

 

With every night that Mickey spent on this couch, he was staring to get used to it, his body was starting to get used to it - which also meant that he was starting to realize that it wasn't at all as soft as it had felt in the beginning when he had gone from sleeping on the street corner. Mickey’s back was certainly starting to take its toll, not to the point where it bothered him all too much at all, but he felt it in certain positions.

 

Maybe it was stupid that he and Jayme weren’t sleeping in the same bed, Mickey knew that it was possible to do so despite the fact that they had decided to wait to fuck. He also knew that they had shared Jayme’s bed one night in the past - even before they had kissed - and it had proven not to be a big deal. But making it into a habit, or an every night kind of thing just felt too soon. Like they would automatically me in a full speed relationship rather than just dating, which didn’t make much sense seeing as they lived together, but Mickey’s point still stood its ground in his opinion.

 

The morning light was filling the livingroom quickly, more and more for every second, though the sun was still nowhere to be seen, really, letting Mickey know that it was most likely going to be a gloomy day. He turned his body, placing his feet flat onto the carpet and getting up, feeling some of the sleep slip back out of his body, granting him with just a little bit more energy as he stared at the black television screen for a moment, just gathering himself before he started to move over towards the kitchen, frowning at the cold floor - he should really start to make socks a regular thing.

 

He had never once seen Jayme’s bare feet on the cement, and there was probably a pretty good reason for that. It was like walking on a fucking plate of ice, especially in the morning. As he walked, he looked over towards his room, noting that the door was closed, making it obvious that Jayme was still very much asleep - which made sense, it could barely be called the morning yet - it was rare that Mickey would be up before him, but he hadn’t slept much tonight. It wasn’t just the non-existing texts that bothered him, he supposed. There were other things - of course there were other things.

 

Shit like him not knowing where to go from here - what to do. Not just with Jayme, with Ian or with Svetlana - but all of it. His life, even not including other people, it was a fucked up mess.

 

Mickey clenched his eyes shut, bringing his right hand up to them, rubbing some more of the sleep out of his features - or at least he tried - then he continued walking over the cold cement, passing through the kitchen to get to the second door of the bathroom, entering it tiredly. He closed the door, not bothering to lock it before he pressed his hand against the light switch, once again frowning at how bright it got.

 

Fuck, maybe he didn't have as much energy as he thought. Quickly, he took his morning piss and then he flushed, turning back around and heading out into the kitchen. For a moment, he just stood there, struggling to get his mind working perfectly as the sleep didn’t seem to want to escape his body completely just quite yet. A part of him wanted breakfast, and another part of him felt too tired to do anything but walk back towards the couch and watch some cartoons while he waited for Jayme to wake up. Finally, though, he ended up running a hand over his face, walking towards the coffee maker.

 

Mickey had made coffee a million times over, so he just started getting it ready, not really putting any thought into the movements. Instead his mind started wandering other places - of course. Fuck. If only he knew how to get rid of whatever weight had strapped itself to his back in the past year. It had been a lot - a lot going on, a lot changing, a lot of shit happening - and most of it was his own fault.

 

Fuck, Mickey wasn’t even sure what exactly was the biggest contributor. Maybe it was the fact that he really had to way of knowing whether his sister was alive and well or not, or maybe it was the fact that his relationship of three years had somehow just been cut off. Ian hated him now, as far as Mickey knew and he couldn’t blame him for that, not really. It went up and down a lot - sometimes Mickey hated Ian, sometimes he didn’t even think about it, and sometimes - most of the time - Mickey just felt a horrible wash of guilt come over him.

 

About everything, all of it. Since he was with Jayme now, it was horrible of him to even think about it… but sometimes Mickey just wished that he was back with Ian. It wasn’t that he wanted to get back together with Ian and forget about everything - he just wanted to go back in time. Back to that summer when they had all been a family - him, Ian, Svetlana, Yevgeny, even Iggy, all of them - they had been good. They had all been happy. Then one thing had led to another and people had made mistakes and not everything was just… shit. Fucked up and Mickey didn’t know how to make it get better. He didn’t know what the first step to fixing his life would be.

 

Mickey was a little bit started and tugged out of his own head by the sound of the crackling coffee maker, letting him know that it was almost finished. He did his best to let go of the uneasiness in his stomach, and he reached up to one of the cupboards, lifting two cups out, filling one of them up with the dark, steaming liquid before he turned around, starting to walk out towards the couch again.

 

It crossed his mind to wake Jayme up, but he decided against it. It was only a couple of minutes after five, and he had a feeling that his roommate wouldn’t be very friendly if he did so right now. So instead Mickey had his left hand curled around his cup of coffee, using his right one to push the blankets to the side, deciding that he would fold them or whatever the fuck later on in the day. Then he sank back down, sighing just ever so slightly as he felt the soft back of the couch hit his own back while he relaxed, reaching for the remote and turning the television on.

 

The somewhat cold air of the apartment reached the bare skin of his legs as the only thing joining Jayme’s sweatshirt on his body was his own pair of boxers. Some of the hair on his thighs raised a little bit and Mickey pulled his legs up onto the couch, crossing them in an attempt to become a little bit warmer as he took a deep gulp of the strong coffee, flipping through several channels of shitty ass reality tv.

 

Who even watched that shit anyway? Mickey was fully convinced that it was a myth that people actually sat their asses down and watched wives of wherever-the-actual-fuck fight about whatever-the-fuck and found it entertaining. So he continued, passing a few cartoons but deciding that he could do better than whatever new cartoons that they tried to pass off to people as the old shit.

 

His legs stayed crossed in front of his body while he relaxed a little bit more, swallowing down even more coffee, feeling the caffeine sink deep into his bones, granting him even more energy as he continued flipping through the channels, still not finding much and eventually settling for a re-run of the Walking Dead that he had already seen surely about a hundred and fifteen times. The noise and the gruesome pictures distracted him for a bit; yesterday had been a good day, and today was proving to be a somewhat worse one. But that was Mickey’s life now, he was in a weird place so maybe it was alright that he was confused or whatever.

 

  
***

 

 

Apparently there was some kind of the Walking Dead marathon going on, because two episodes - and three more cups of coffee later - Mickey was still sitting there, albeit a little bit more awake at this point, realizing that he had missed a whole bunch of shit a year back when he and Ia… when he had watched the show for the first time. Mickey had his left hand curled into a loose fist, his cheek resting on his knuckles while he kept his right hand closed around the warm coffee mug, the base of his resting on his cold knee while he watched someone back one of the walker’s heads in.

 

He lifted his cup of coffee back up to his lips, swallowing a little bit more of the hot liquid; that’s when the door to Jayme’s bedroom finally cracked open. A part of Mickey was surprised, because in his mind, it was still early as fuck - then again, the clock was ticking closer towards seven and he had noticed that his roommate was a lot of the time one of those people who didn’t really sleep in all too much.

 

At the sound of the door opening, Mickey turned his head to the left, looking up at him and struggling not to smile - which was pathetic, really. The fact that the simple sight of Jayme could have that effect on him. They hadn’t even known each other for all that long. Jayme was silent, just standing there in the doorway, staring at the television screen as he was seemingly still somewhat half asleep. That same black hoodie that he almost always seemed to sleep in once again hung off of his tiny shoulders, just about drowning his body in the dark fabric.

 

The gloomy light that poured in through the large window dulled the color of his hair down somewhat, making it look more blue rather than turquoise; the strands were for once not tied up, and instead brushed backwards a little bit, out of his face and on top of his head. Just like Mickey, he only had boxers on on the lower part of his body, leaving his thin, tattoo covered legs bare, the body part ending in a pair of thin, small, black sneaker socks.

 

“Hey, man. There’s coffee” Mickey was the one to break the tired silence in the livingroom, turning back to focus his gaze back onto the television screen. The very first day or so after they had kissed, Mickey could easily now admit that things had been a little bit awkward in between them - not necessarily in a bad way or anything, but it had been tense, he could see that now. At least a little bit tense that usual. Now once they had had some time to adjust, things were… normal. Calm and collected, and they were… good. Even before they had gotten together, Mickey and Jayme had ended up forming some kind of routine in between them, and it stuck. It felt good to have something constant in his life.

 

At Mickey’s greeting, Jayme did nothing but hum absentmindedly, the sound carrying even darker or a pitch than normal, letting his roommate know that he had probably woken up all of a few seconds ago. Mickey heard the steps carrying the older man over towards the kitchen and he completely relaxed back into the couch, swallowing another big amount of his own coffee, disappearing back into the show that was still playing on the television. With every moment that passed, the sky outside seemed to grow a little bit more gloomy, promising rain at some point in the near future.

 

Jayme walked back towards the couch then, carrying his own cup of morning coffee, his hand over his eyes, the skinny fingers rubbing some of the sleep out of them as he yawned, getting himself closer to the couch, sitting down to the right of Mickey and placing his coffee cup onto the table in front of them while he swallowed down the amount he had just poured into his mouth. For a while, they were quiet, just surrounded by a comfortable silence - silence in between them, that was, the sound from the television still filled the room. Once in a while, Mickey was still blown away by how simple shit was in between them - bigger feelings aside, they were friends. They had been friends before anything had even happened. Mickey had never really had that before.

 

“You going into campus today?” Mickey asked once one of the heavy and loud fighting scenes were over; then he took another swallow of his coffee, leaving just a little bit of the liquid left at the bottom of his mug while he turned his head to look at his roommate, watching how his head moved from side to side a couple of times in replacement for a ‘no’. Jayme still had his eyes focused on the television screen, and Mickey noticed that his hair was no in fact tied up into that tiny, ridiculous bun on top of his head; he must have put it up as he was getting his coffee.

 

“No, got today off from everything. Might have to read up a little bit, though. Got an exam coming up in a couple of weeks” The words were rough and somewhat mumbled, which Mickey had noted happened when Jayme was beginning to become tired - or when he was just tired in the morning like now. He did nothing but hum in response as first, sinking back into the couch a little bit more, both of them focusing on the television screen for another moment before Mickey spoke once again.

 

“If you got today off, why the fuck are you awake, man? I don’t think it’s even seven yet” They both knew why Mickey was awake, and they didn’t have to talk about it. Mickey was going through a hard time, and though Jayme didn’t even know half of the shit going on in his life, he did know enough not to ask, and maybe that was one of the reasons why Mickey liked him so much. Because he knew what was his business and what was in fact nothing of the sort. Jayme didn’t say anything for a beat, focusing on one of the walker’s heads flying off. Then he turned to look at his roommate, Mickey sensing the movement and doing the same, causal blue eyes locking with amused hazel ones.

 

“‘Cause you are. Spending time together’s so much better than sleeping, yeah?” There was a teasing tickle in Jayme’s dark, sleep clouded words, suggesting that he was only being half serious. His mouth was pulled up into a happy grin, showing off his perfect teeth, causing Mickey to bite the inside of his own lip to keep from mirroring the expression. Fucking hell this dude was something else. For a moment, they looked at each other, and then Mickey snorted, shaking his head a little bit while he broke the eye contact, looking back to the television screen and lifting his cup of coffee up to his lips, swallowing down the cooling black liquid, fighting not to cringe at how it tasted when it was no longer scolding.

 

“Fuck you, man” Was all Mickey could come up with for a response, the words somewhat muffled and echoey thanks to his breath bouncing against the walls of the coffee cup in his hands.

 

Jayme’s chuckles joined his own for a couple of beats before they quieted down once again. Mickey sank back into the television show, his hand relaxing around his cup of coffee, lips parting for no other reason other than the fact that he was completely calm and relaxed - something that was somewhat new to him. It didn’t take more than a second or so before he felt the cushion next to him move a little bit, a pair of lips being placed against his neck; this time Mickey couldn’t at all help his smile - or grin was probably a better word, if he was being honest. He tilted his head even a little bit more to the right, looking down into his lap as he enjoyed the feeling of Jayme’s thin but warm lips resting against his skin, joined by the slightly cooling factor of the two metal studs below his bottom lip.

 

“Can’t help it” Jayme murmured, then he parted his lips a little bit more, some saliva slipping out. Mickey didn’t even bother to try recalling what he had said that his roommate was answering to, it didn’t matter.

 

Fuck, Jayme wasn’t even really mouthing or anything. He just pressed a couple of kisses to Mickey’s neck, and it felt that fucking good - maybe it wasn’t the act so much as just who was doing it. Mickey’s left hand was curled around his cup of coffee, so he used his right one to nudge Jayme a little bit away from him, just enough that he could lift his arm and wrap it around his neck, locking their lips together, both pairs of eyes immediately falling closed, Jayme’s dark hum sounding in between them, somewhere in the base of his throat while he sucked Mickey’s bottom lip in between his own, some of their saliva mixing when Mickey pulled away to deepen it just a little bit - not too much, it was more than a good morning kiss. A good morning kiss in between two people who’s feelings for each other were still new and bubbling over, of course - but still.

 

“Why would I rather be sleeping than spending time with my boyfriend anyway? Fucking crazy” Jayme spoke easily once they had parted, sinking back into the couch, lifting his cup of coffee back up to his lips.

 

“Boyfriend? Who the fuck said I was your boyfriend, man?” It was only when Mickey’s voice reached Jayme’s ears again that he realized what he had actually said. Jayme wasn’t much of a nervous or an anxious person - or the kind of person to stress about little slips he made throughout the day - but this? Yeah, this could be really fucking bad. He knew that if he wanted to be with Mickey, then he needed to be somewhat patient. The guy was obviously going through some shit that he didn’t feel the need to talk about, and he was also quite obviously in a place where he wasn’t all that ready to be in a new relationship - they couldn’t fight whatever they had though, so kissing was a good compromise.

 

Fuck. How could he just slip up like that? How had he just called Mickey his boyfriend so easily? He hadn’t even thought about it all that much. Jayme stayed still and quiet for an hour or so - well, actually it was probably only about three or five seconds, but it might as well have been a lifetime, because his heart was beating a million miles a minute, stressing him the actual fuck out.

 

“Oh, I’m… Uh… So fucking sorry, Mickey. I wasn’t thinking” Jayme wasn’t sure what else he could say. That he didn’t mean it? That he didn’t want it? He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

 

“S’alright, man” To say he was surprised by Mickey’s casual tone in the reply was an understatement at best, and his thin eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting a little bit as the cushion beside him moved and Mickey stood up, Jayme turning his head to look up. Mickey carried a slightly teasing smile on those thick lips, and he lifted his thumb up to his bottom lip, rubbing it a little bit - Jayme saw him do that quite often. Maybe it was some sort of nervous habit or something, he wasn’t sure. “Now I got a boyfriend and shit” Mickey spoke, his smile growing right before he bent down, pressing one more, deep but simple kiss to Jayme’s lips; making his insides do that weird, fucked up flip that he had never really felt before he had met Mickey.

 

  
***

 

  
The bathroom door closed behind Mickey, and he pressed the light twitch, leaning back against the wood for a moment, contemplating what the fuck had just happened. Jayme was his boyfriend now - officially and completely. It was a big moment. It was supposed to be a big moment. So… why didn’t it feel like it? Why didn’t it feel like a big step to call someone else his boyfriend? Why didn’t he feel guilty and why wasn’t he contemplating just going home and trying to forget about him? That’s what Mickey had assumed would end up happening whenever they got to this point, but here they were.

 

Boyfriends, and… he just felt good. Fucking christ. Mickey shook his head a little bit, trying to get the smile off of his lips as he stood up straight again, beginning to shed his clothes to take his morning shower. All of the fabric ended up in a pile on the floor as he stepped into the bathtub, cringing a little bit at the screeching sound reaching his ears when he turned the knob to get the water to pour out over his body. The water pressure in this place was nothing short of a joke, if he was being honest, but the heat still warmed him up and refreshed him as he washed, his eyes closed.

 

Maybe it was pathetic and maybe it made him a chick or some shit, but Mickey thought back on how it had sounded when he word had come out of Jayme’s mouth - intentional or not. It had sounded so fucking good. Maybe Mickey should stop fighting this. Granted, he obviously hadn’t been fighting it all that much lately, but on some small scale he was still hesitant to abandon what he had known and go for it like he had only done once before. It was time to let that go - Jayme was his future. How long said future would last, Mickey of course couldn’t know. It wasn’t as if he was imagining them walking down the aisle or some shit, he wasn’t a complete idiot, maybe they would last for a week or maybe they would last for ten years, fuck if he knew - but right now, Jayme was his future.

 

With a bulletproof smile on his face, Mickey stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, starting to fry off his body with one of the towels, pulling a clean pair of boxers on along with that old Of Mice & Men shirt of Jayme’s that he found thrown onto the floor, knowing that he had probably put it there himself at some point. He lifted the towel back up, rubbing some more of the water out of his hair and hanging the towel back up, exiting the bathroom, his heart doing some weird kind of flip as he walked back towards his boyfriend.

 

That warm, fuzzy feeling inside of his stomach lasted for about a second once he had laid eyes on Jayme. He was standing in the middle of the livingroom, biting the pad of his own thumb while he frowned down at Mickey’s phone.

 

The screen was black, so he wasn’t going through it. It looked more as if he had just hung up from a phone call or something. Mickey furrowed his brows, his heart doing a whole other kind of flip now.

 

“Jay?” The older man looked up, their eyes connecting from across the room. Mickey couldn’t read him at all. He wasn’t crying, he didn’t look angry. His face was just settled into… something. Something Mickey had never seen before, so he couldn’t place it. Didn’t have any guesses as to what might be going through his head.

 

“I ignored it” Jayme rasped, waving Mickey’s phone weakly in the air a little bit, holding it in between his thin, tattooed fingers. “For the first eight times” He added then, a slightly bitter, dark chuckle to his voice. “Then I figured, what if it’s an emergency or something, you know? Figured I’d answer, tell them you’d call them back” Mickey swallowed, his mind flashing with possibilities. Was Mandy back home? Did Ian want him back? All of that would have been so much easier to explain to Jayme, because when he finally let Mickey know who had called, his blood ran cold. “That was your wife. She wants to know when you’re coming back to take care of your son”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Uh. Yeah. We all knew this was coming eventually lmao. Have a great day  <3 (Also, unrelated to this chapter, but [I found this video of my fc for Jayme and it's fucking perfect](http://anothergallavichlove.tumblr.com/post/147098175389/youre-welcome))


	17. Tomorrow Is Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck - Mickey barely understood any of it himself. Whenever he thought back on that one, terrible day, it was a complete and utter blur. A blur of the panic that had coursed throughout his body when he had heard the door.
> 
> A blur of Ian crying, a blur of blood and a blur of misery. How was he supposed to sum all of that up into a mere few sentences? He had to try, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I don't edit. I need to start. Really. I do, fuck I'm lazy. For now, though - ignore the typos for me, thank you.

As if on cartoon que or some shit, the rain that had been promising up in the sky for the past twenty four hours started absolutely pouring down outside of the window.

 

“Jay, I can explain this shit” Not that Mickey was sure how the fuck he was supposed to do that. It wasn’t as if he had planned on just being with Jayme and never telling him about Svetlana - that would be impossible. He had just wanted to wait a little bit, he had wanted to be ready. He had wanted to know Jayme better, and he had wanted Jayme to know him a little bit better too, maybe. But most of all, he had wanted to tell him about his son and so-called wife himself.

 

This was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen - the worst way in which Jayme could possibly find out. Fuck. Why was Mickey’s life such a mess? Did he really deserve all of this?

 

“I’m not interested in hearing it, Mickey. Pack your fucking shit and get out of my apartment” Jayme’s loud, dark voice overclouded the sound of the rain slamming against the large window in the livingroom.

 

There it was again, that large lump in Mickey’s throat that appeared once in a while. Whenever he was scared he was going to lose somebody. It had happened when Mandy had left. It had happened when Ian had left for the army, and it had happened when Ian had broken up with him. And here it was again, when Jayme was angry, telling him to get out of his apartment.

 

Mickey couldn't blame him one bit of course, he knew what he must be thinking - Mickey had gotten out of prison and decided to have some fun before he had to return home to his wife and kid. That wasn’t at all what this was, and he needed to figure out a way to make Jayme understand, but right now he was so stressed out that he couldn’t even think of words.

 

Jayme was walking past him, heading towards his room, not giving him a single look until Mickey’s palm was placed flat on his upper chest, stopping him. The fact that he had to actually reach up to make that happen was pathetic - fucking giant.

 

“I’m fucking serious, sit your ass down, I’ll explain” Mickey tried again. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want Jayme to know. The more he knew about Mickey’s life, the more likely he would be to dump his ass, it was just common fucking sense, really. Mickey was a lot - he had done a lot of shit and he had been through a lot of shit. Most of said shit he would never ever want to talk about again.

 

Sure, on some level maybe he loved his son, and he loved his sister. He cared for Svetlana in some fucked up way he supposed. But everything else? Whenever he thought about it it just brought him pain. Jayme brought him happiness. Rockford brought him happiness, if only because it wasn’t Chicago.

 

The last thing Mickey wanted to do was walk through the mud that was his past life and then walk straight onto the sparkling white rug that was his new life with the same shoes, but he knew that he didn’t have a choice right now. If he told Jayme, maybe there was a slight possibility that he wouldn’t leave him. Tiny or not.

 

“I’m serious too, leave me alone” Jayme spoke quickly, and Mickey couldn’t tell if the tone of his voice was anger or sadness - both, possibly. Probably. “You’re married” They were looking at each other now, Jayme crossing his arms in front of his chest, staring down while Mickey sighed, starting to shake his head and deny it, but Jayme interrupted him again. “I fucked someone else’s husband, that’s not who I am. You fucking lied to me”

 

“I never said I wasn’t married” Mickey stated truthfully - all the while knowing the words wouldn’t get him anywhere but thrown back out onto the street. But honestly he was starting to get angry as well, he couldn’t help but feel himself become worked up when the most patient guy in the world wouldn’t even shut the fuck up for long enough for Mickey to actually explain. Jayme just snorted, rolling his eyes while he started walking towards his room again. Mickey, however - was faster this time, wrapping his hand around the strings of that black hoodie, tugging him back, their eye contact being picked up again. Frustrated blue eyes on pissed off hazel. “And we never fucked”

 

“You know what I mean” Jayme stated immediately, and Mickey sighed, nodding while he lifted his right hand up to his lips, thumbing the bottom one as he stayed silent, thankful that Jayme at least seemed to have given up on escaping into the bedroom for now. That didn’t mean that Mickey knew what to say, though. That didn’t mean that he knew what to do.

 

“There is a fucking explanation, alright? You wanna hear it?” Mickey tried again, looking up into Jayme’s eyes, trying not to appear way too desperate. He hated the way that his heart seemed to scream whenever he thought about whatever he had with Jayme ending - he didn’t want that, and he knew that it was technically way too soon to feel that way. To feel like he would be crushed if things didn’t work out. Then again, it wasn’t as if he could help that or anything so all he could do was try to save whatever they had.

 

“Honestly, Mickey. I don’t know if it would make much of a difference” Jayme’s voice still carried that edge with it - the edge that Mickey had never heard before. The edge that he would never again want to hear. It was terrifying, if he was being honest - not because he believed that Jayme would ever hurt him or some shit, but because Jayme was normally either this really calm guy, or he was childish once in a while. Angry wasn’t something that Mickey had ever seen, and he didn’t like it. Although Jayme had an incredibly good reason right about now, so it wasn’t as if he could possibly blame him or anything.

 

“Sit your ass down, man? Please. Promise you’ll feel like an asshole after I tell you about this shit, alright?” It was true. Technically Mickey hadn’t done anything wrong when it came to marrying Svetlana - he hadn’t even had a choice in fucking her. He had married her to protect himself and Ian - maybe even to protect her and the baby now that he looked back.

 

And now, romantic love or not, they were family. Fucked up family. A family that would never be a good one, but still. Mickey had made a shit ton of mistakes in his life, but the way that he saw it, maybe signing the fucking papers to be Svetlana’s husband hadn’t been one. He loved his kid. He wasn’t anywhere near a good father, but he loved his kid in some kind of way. How couldn’t he? Yevgeny was a part of him.

 

Mickey swallowed; his eyes had been focused down onto the floor as his mind had spun and spun and as he looked up again, he realized that Jayme had obeyed his request. The older man was sitting on the couch, feet planted onto the black rug as he looked as his boyfriend, just waiting. Waiting for an explanation that Mickey was trying desperately to come up with. How did he explain all of this?

 

Mickey’s past was a complete and utter, disgusting mess. Fuck if he could even remember all of the factors that had gone into everything. That - and… Mickey fucking hated thinking back on that day. He hated thinking about it, so how was he supposed to talk about it? From what he remembered he never had. Well… maybe with Ian at some point, but he didn’t want to think about that shit either, fuck this was a mess. And Jayme was just sitting there, a neutral - slightly pissed off - expression on his face.

 

“Are you gonna talk at some point, or no?” Jayme rasped when their eyes connected. Mickey had believed that maybe his boyfriend had calmed down a little bit in the past couple of minutes - apparently not. Understandably so, too, if he was being honest.

 

“This is hard enough for me to talk about, alright, Jay? Would you shut the fuck up for once?” Alright, this was officially their first fight. Mickey didn’t like it one bit, fucking hell. This wasn’t how anything was supposed to go, he had wanted to wait another few weeks, and then he had wanted to sit Jayme down and tell him everything from beginning to end - that would have been difficult, of course - but at least he would have had Jayme’s kind, patient face to look at.

 

Now Jayme just looked angry, tense and pissed off. He had absolutely no reason to have any other emotion on his face, but Mickey was telling the truth when he said that this was difficult for him to talk about. He wasn’t all too sure why - sure, Terry had beaten him and Ian up, and he had fucked Svetlana at gun point. And yes, that was a lot scarier than anything he had gone through before that day, but it wasn’t as if he had been tied up or some shit. Why was this so difficult for him to talk about, why did it hurt so bad? Why could he still remember the look on Ian’s face as Svetlana had undressed and Terry had - for fucking sakes, Milkovich, man up.

 

Thankfully, Mickey’s last little outburst seemed to have at least gotten Jayme to understand that it was best for him to stay quiet for this, so that’s what he did. He wasn’t anywhere near less pissed off now than he had been when Mickey had entered the livingroom, of course - but it was a good thing that Mickey had done space to talk and try to explain this somehow.

 

The problem was that he didn’t know where the absolute hell to even begin. He started pacing a few steps back and forth, lifting his hands up to his hair, tugging a little bit at his roots while he looked down onto the grey cement floor beneath his feet. Then, finally he stopped and turned, their eyes connecting once again. The lump was large in his throat, his heart banging against his ribcage. He was nervous. Nervous about how he was supposed to explain this shit, and nervous about what Jayme would think of him afterwards. Alas -

 

“A while back - gotta be a couple years now…” It was a start, at least. And Jayme kept the same expression on his face, but he stayed silent. “Me and Ian were together, but we weren’t…” Mickey trailed off for a second, thumbing his bottom lip once again. Fuck. Talking to Jayme about Ian - could shit get any more awkward? Well… Jayme and Ian in the same room would make it more awkward, but hopefully that would never happen for as long as they all shall live.

 

“Out?” Jayme’s dark voice dragged Mickey out of his own head, their eyes connecting once again.

 

“Yeah” Mickey nodded a little bit. “Well, he was. I wasn’t, whatever. Anyway - my pops took my brothers out on a run for a couple of days, maybe it was a weekend, I don’t fucking know” Mickey continued, swallowing a little bit.

 

Why in the actual hell was this so difficult for him to say? It happened ages ago. Jayme stayed quiet after that one word, waiting for the rest of the story that was coming. “Ian was in a group home because of some shit, I don’t remember anymore. So he stayed over at the house to get out of there” Mickey thumbed his bottom lip once again, swallowing, looking down at the cement floor beneath his feet.

 

Fuck, this shouldn’t be so difficult to talk about, should it? It wasn’t as if Mickey had been raped or some shit, he had been forced to fuck Lana, so what? He had fucked plenty of chicks in the past, why did this time hurt him? Maybe it was because of the look on Ian’s face, or maybe it was because that day, that incident had somehow marked the end of their careless youth. After that their relationship had been all pain, hiding and lying and disorders and the army and break ups and - fuck. Mickey needed to calm down.

 

Jayme was staying quiet, letting Mickey take his time.

 

Mickey wracked his brain, he had barely revealed anything yet, and he didn’t know how to. He didn’t know what words to use, he didn’t know how to explain this shit in a way that wouldn’t make Jayme even more pissed off. He wasn’t sure if he should say it quickly or if he should actually sit down and half an hour long talk through - neither seemed very appealing, or like they would make Jayme understand any of this.

 

Fuck - Mickey barely understood any of it himself. Whenever he thought back on that one, terrible day, it was a complete and utter blur. A blur of the panic that had coursed throughout his body when he had heard the door.

 

A blur of Ian crying, a blur of blood and a blur of misery. How was he supposed to sum all of that up into a mere few sentences? He had to try, though. It wasn’t as if he could back out if he wanted to have even a slight chance of being Jayme’s boyfriend. And he did. He knew that as he looked back up into those hazel eyes. Jayme did look a little bit softer now - make no mistake, he was still pissed off to no end - but he looked willing to listen.

 

Mickey knew that it was worth it - the pain of telling Jayme was worth it, because nothing about that day mattered anymore. It was in the past. Maybe once in a while dragging the past into the present, if even just for a moment, could make the present better. So Mickey thumbed his bottom lip, sucked it up and continued talking.

 

“In the morning, he had to go to work” Mickey shrugged. “Um, I just - I wanted him to stay for a bit. We fucked over the couch in the livingroom. Pretty much right by the front door” Talking about fucking his ex with his current boyfriend couldn’t be very smart, but how the hell was he supposed to explain this other than to directly spell it out anyway? Jayme wasn’t a little kid, he could take it.

 

When he looked up at him, he could see that Jayme was starting to piece at least the very first part of the story together, his thin eyebrows furrowing just a little bit. Though still pissed off, he seemed even somewhat softer now, fully listening instead of just sitting down because he had to.

 

Mickey still didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t want Jayme to know. But in the end, this relationship with Jayme was worth a lot to Mickey, so if revealing this part of his past would keep him with him, then he would do so.

 

“I uh… it was Ian that reacted first, I think, I don’t really fucking know. Anyway, pops walked in right in the middle of it. Told you what he’s like with this whole gay thing”

 

Mickey paused after that, going back to thumbing his bottom lip. He just really wanted to find the right words to somehow explain this. Explain what went down and explain how he felt about shit now, but he had never been one of those people who knew how to do that - he had never been able to use his words in the way that Jayme did.

 

Mickey’s eyes were focused on the ground once again, his chest moving up and down once in a movement that was visible to Jayme, so despite the words on the tip of his tongue, he didn’t tell Mickey to go on. He shut his mouth, no matter how difficult it was for him. Whenever he got pissed off, Jayme was a volcano. Not physically, but certainly verbally which was something that he really needed to work on; hurting Mickey in this situation wasn’t a good idea as far as he saw it. So Jayme closed his teeth around the piece of skin inside of his mouth and he didn’t say shit.

 

“He um…” Mickey begun again, silently cursing himself for taking so long to get the words out. It was as if they just wouldn’t escape out of his mouth fast enough no matter what he did, fucking hell. “Anyway, he beat our asses, of course. Pretty fucking badly” Mickey thumbed his bottom lip again, his eyes on Jayme’s now. Jayme probably still didn’t have much of an idea about how Svetlana and Yevgeny played into this, but his eyes were softer now, the thin, perfectly shaped eyebrows a little bit drawn together again while he waited for Mickey to speak the next part of the story. The rain sped up outside of the window, slamming against the glass as Mickey gathered up the strength to do just that. “Then, um… I think we were just about passed out when he called someone. I could only listen to some of it, I heard um… I heard him tell them to send over the Russian”

 

Mickey lifted his head, their eyes connecting again, and he could see the exact moment when things started to fall into place inside of Jayme’s brain. The moment when he understood - at least somewhat - what Mickey was getting at. What had happened to him. He stayed silent, though - he wanted to hear Mickey talk about it, and maybe - in some fucked up or twisted way - Mickey needed to talk about it, too. So the younger man sighed, and he shrugged, looking out of the large window, observing the rain for half a moment before looking back to Jayme, continuing the story.

 

“I don’t remember much, to be completely fucking honest. But uh… he had a gun so I didn’t have much of a choice. He would have shot all three of us, ’s not above it.” Mickey shrugged, unable to keep the eye-contact, his eyes once again falling onto the cement surface beneath him. Jayme must have figured it all out by now, but Mickey swallowed, wanting to continue.

 

“Come here” Mickey frowned, looking up at the deep pitched voice; Jayme had no anger left in his face right now. It calmed the younger man down a great deal to see his boyfriend the way he was used to seeing him, the anger didn’t suit him one single bit. Jayme nodded his head, gesturing for Mickey to walk over towards him; truth be told, Mickey doubted that he would ever in his entire life be able to resist being closer to Jayme whenever he had the chance. He just made him feel… safe. A little bit less fucked up, maybe.

 

Without him really making a conscious decision to, Mickey’s feet started moving, taking the few steps over to the couch. When he was close enough, Jayme reached forwards, wrapping his large, slender hands around the back of his knees, tugging him onto his lap. Mickey could pretty much immediately feel his very soul relaxing at the touch as they got closer, Jayme looking up at him with that kind, soft expression on his face.

 

Mickey swallowed, his hands falling onto the sides of his boyfriends neck while he chewed the inside of his bottom lip, building up the courage to tell him the last bit of the fucked up tail that was his life. Well - this particular chapter of it, at least.

 

“He forced Ian to watch” Mickey spoke, looking down at the uneven strings of Jayme’s large hoodie, if only to avoid eye contact. “I can still see that fucking look on his face” He admitted. “Whatever we had back then has been over for a long time, but… he looked like a scared little boy or some shit. No one deserves that” A slight, barely audible hum sounded in the base of Jayme’s throat, and Mickey realized that he was listening. He understood. It was alright to talk about shit. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. “She got knocked up” Mickey said what Jayme had since long figured out, his eyes still looking down at his boyfriend’s chest, avoiding his eyes. “And… I had to marry her, then pops got locked up again and things kind of worked out with me and Ian for a bit after that, he got along with her - but all of that’s a whole other story, I don’t want to talk about all of that shit right now” Mickey sped through the last bit, shrugging as he lifted his head a little bit, Jayme looking at him.

 

“Hm. Okay” Jayme agreed, nodding once or twice. The wall he had put up around himself when he had first confronted Mickey still wasn’t completely down, but Mickey could tell he was getting there, this was a fuck load of shit to take in, after all. Mickey wasn’t sure even he had yet, despite it having been years since the incident had occurred. “Can’t blame me for freaking out, yeah? Thought you weren’t mine” There was a slight joking tickle to his voice, if only to lighten the air a little bit, and Mickey appreciated it. Though he was serious, too. At least a little bit, and Mickey could tell, letting out a slight chuckle before shaking his head, looking into the hazel eyes. His fingers touched a few of the blue strands at the nape of Jayme’s neck as he said it.

 

“I am” He didn’t have to elaborate.

 

“I am too” Jayme nodded; then they were both quiet for a beat, just looking at each other. No tension in between them, it was as if they both needed to shut up for a moment and let everything sink in. Mickey swallowed then, asking the question that he had been so terrified of for the past however long.

 

“Look, man… I’m… I’m really fucking into you, alright?” At the words, Jayme’s eyebrows immediately drew together, and Mickey heard how it had sounded, so he was quick to explain himself, swallowing thickly before doing so. “I am. But my life is a fucking mess. What I just told you is… not even close to half of it. So if you want to bail, man, I wouldn’t blame you”

 

Mickey hated how fucking weak his voice sounded through the words, how it wavered and how it shook; then again, how could he possibly hide how crushed he would be if Jayme were to say ‘Yes. I want to bail, I’m sorry’?

 

Mickey wasn’t worried for very long, however, because in true Jayme fashion, all he did was wrap his long, thin arms all the way around Mickey’s waist, tugging him closer so that their chests were pressed together while he looked up at Mickey, who’s face lost some of the look of worry, or maybe it had been sadness.

 

“You just said you’re mine, Mickey. You’re not going anywhere” Maybe it was the wrong time, maybe they should keep talking. But something about the way that those words sounded coming out of Jayme’s mouth - his dark voice hugging the words with that fucking Australian pronunciation, Mickey’s eyes fell closed, his mouth covering Jayme’s before he could really let the want register inside of his brain.

 

The rain sped up outside of the window, Mickey’s bottom lip slipped in between Jayme’s, something inside of him snapping back into place with the kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart again, albeit slowly, letting their eyes flutter open again, connecting.

 

“Besides…” Jayme spoke then, his adams-apple bopping up and down inside of his skinny throat for a moment. “You don’t know everything about my shit either, it’s okay. We will in time”

 

Mickey tried not to freak out at the fact that Jayme was hinting that they would be together for a long time - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to freak out because he was happy or terrified, but both would probably apply. Either way, he stayed quiet. They both did for a beat, then Jayme spoke again.

 

“Know, you shouldn’t talk about it like it was nothing” Mickey furrowed his eyebrows, his boyfriend’s tattooed hand moving up and down on his waist over his shirt, calming them both down. “You were raped” Mickey rolled his eyes.

 

“Come on, man. Wasn’t that bad, not like I was held down or some shit” Mickey shrugged. Right as the words left his mouth, both of Jayme’s large hands had left his waist, holding his face instead. It was a soft grip, his thumbs resting right below his bottom lip, but it was enough to get Mickey to look at him. Jayme’s face was settled into a serious expression as he shook his head.

 

“That’s not the point, you were forced into it. Mate, you have got to stop doing that” Mickey frowned, not having to ask Jayme to elaborate, he understood and continued to talk anyway. “Sometimes you act like you’re worse than everyone else. Quit that, alright?” Mickey was quiet, just looking down at his boyfriend; he could feel his heart doing something weird, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing, maybe it was both. He had never really had anybody tell him that he was good enough before - not lately. It sounded pretty fucking good, especially coming from Jayme because Mickey knew that he wasn’t a liar.

 

“Yeah” Mickey agreed. “Yeah, I guess… I was. Fuck” It wasn’t as if the word had never once crossed Mickey’s mind in relation to the incident before - it had - but every time he had just shaken it off and decided that it wasn’t at all the same thing as some girl getting jumped in an alley. It couldn’t possibly effect in him the same way - maybe it had, he realized now. Maybe the reason why he hated talking about it, hated thinking about it, hadn’t really let Ian fuck him from behind since that day was because, yes - he had gotten raped. Fuck.

 

Jayme’s hands stayed placed around his face, their eyes connected. The rain continued chattering against the window, making them both feel as if they were off in their own world somehow. Jayme was the one to lean forwards a little bit, pressing his lips to Mickey’s chin softly. Mickey was slightly surprised at first - it was such an innocent thing to do - he wasn’t even pecking his lips - he was just pressing one, single, chaste kiss to his chin. To make him feel happier, to make him feel safe. Holy fuck, how did Mickey get so lucky that he had found this man?

 

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Jayme asked once he had pulled away, their eyes on each other’s once again. Mickey’s hands were at the nape of his neck, his fingers twirling a few strands of blue hair as he stayed straddling his boyfriend’s lap, his head moving up and down just once in agreement. Jayme was silent for a beat, seemingly trying to figure out exactly how to word whatever question he was about to ask. “Your son… How do you feel about him?”

 

It was a good question. It was worthy of a good and thoughtful answer. The problem was that Mickey wasn’t sure what the truth was. It wasn’t as if he hated the kid - not at all - it wasn’t his fault the fucked up way that he had been brought into this world. Mickey would truthfully be very sad if he never saw him again, that didn’t feel right. And he didn’t want to be like Terry either. he was silent for a beat, looking up at the tiny, blue bun on top of his boyfriend’s head, if only to distract himself for a moment or two while he tried to come up with a good enough reply to that question. Jayme was patient, just waiting. A far throw away from how he had been half an hour ago.

 

“He’s my son, man…” Mickey finally spoke, looking into the hazel eyes once again, continuing to play with some of the blue strands at the back of Jayme’s neck. “I mean, I wanna be in his life, I guess. None of this shit is his fault or anything” Jayme’s head moved slowly up and down once; or maybe it was twice. Then Mickey swallowed, shrugging. “It’s not like I wasn’t planning on ever going back there or some shit. I want to take care of him. Should take care of her too, she’s not a complete bitch, I guess”

 

“Really?” Jayme chuckled. “Because she called you a piece of shit. First words out of her mouth” The air in the room immediately lightened at the statement, and Mickey couldn’t help but let his own chuckles blend in with the much darker ones.

 

“Piece of shit husband?” Jayme nodded. “Yeah, that’s kind of her thing” They both chuckled for another couple of seconds, and then they trailed off, becoming somewhat more serious again as Jayme wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, tugging him as close as he could possibly come. Mickey didn’t have much of a choice but to lean their foreheads together, as cheesy as it may have looked.

 

“If you want to go back, I’ll go with you, yeah? If you want me to” Jayme mumbled, and Mickey didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, not really in the mood to state how much he appreciated the offer. But he did - fuck, who even was this guy?

 

Mickey lifted his head a little bit, just enough so that he could lean his forehead against Jayme’s shoulder again, breathing him in. The long arms tightened a little bit around his waist, holding them together as Mickey let his eyes fall closed, not currently giving a single shit about how much of a chick it made him to just want to be close to someone like this. All he could do was take a deep breath and breathe his boyfriend’s scent in, feeling it calm him down. Fuck, he hoped this wouldn’t be ripped away from him any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to see Svetlana and Yevgeny in the next chapter? I fucking am. And then after that more and more characters from the show will come in. Now that Mickey and Jayme are actually together, we can get into the storyline for real lmao. I hope that this chapter was alright, as always comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated, more than you know. 
> 
> I hope that you all have an amazing day <3


	18. Like Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were silent for a beat, or maybe two. Then Svetlana said something that Mickey never could have imagined hearing coming out of her mouth in a billion years.
> 
> “You’re a good man. Jayme is lucky. Make sure he takes care of you, yes? Otherwise I will come here and beat his skinny little ass” Mickey snorted, nodding once more.

“He has a child. Can you believe that? I mean it’s not like I have anything against it, but it changes things, you know? It just does, and I am not all too sure we’re going to be able to stop that from happening.”

 

Jayme could hear how he sounded - how the deep, somewhat mumbled words were drawn together, mirroring his confusion. Yet, he needed to talk about this with someone so he didn’t have all that much of a choice.

 

“You know I never liked children” He continued truthfully, his dark voice somewhat of a sigh while he looked down at his hands, the thin, arched eyebrows just a little bit furrowed while he wracked his brain. It was possible that it was a lot healthier for him not to voice his concerns about Mickey and… whatever his son’s name was, but he had it all on the tip of his tongue and now it was just spilling out of his mouth, seven o’clock on a saturday morning. “I have never really seen the appeal as much as most people seem to. I really like Mickey, though. So if he wants to be in his kid’s life then I will do my best” Jayme spoke thoughtfully. “But sometimes I feel as if he thinks I’m this perfect guy - at least for him - and like he’s worse than me. But he doesn’t know half of who I am. It’s not like I am hiding anything, we just haven’t known each other for long at all. Maybe me not knowing how to deal with children would make him upset. I don’t fucking know shit.”

 

After those words he paused for a moment or two, staying quiet as he looked down at his tattoo covered hands, spinning some of the metal rings around his skinny fingers, his thoughts still running around in his head. They had ever since his and Mickey’s talk a few days ago. It hadn’t changed anything for Jayme other than he had gotten more of a clear view of who his boyfriend was. And in most cases, it would probably have been best for them to wait before exposing things like that about themselves.

 

Not just the whole thing that Mickey was put through, but other heavy shit as well. Big stuff - Mickey’s past, Jayme’s addictions - it would probably have been smarter for them to get to know each other better for who they were before they started digging out who they used to be. In most cases, that was - because Jayme was completely aware of the fact that their relationship wasn’t ‘most cases’. It wasn’t very normal, and it wasn’t very steady or safe yet. They both had shit in their lives that they needed to work on, and neither of them really had much time for a boyfriend. Nor did they know each other well whatsoever.

 

However - now they were here. Together. Calling each other ‘boyfriend’ and shit. They were still getting used to it. But it wasn’t as if they would be able to let go of each other at this point in their lives. They were at a good place, it would be stupid as shit to fuck it up. So making it work was all they could do - even if that meant that Jayme had to put his dislike of children aside - dislike was a harsh word, Jayme just was never sure how to deal with them, what to say. However, if the kid was anything like Mickey he probably wasn’t so bad in any case.

 

“It just seems like it’s all going incredibly fast, you know? And that’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just what’s happening right now and we can’t really do all that much about it. We live together, his life is a mess, my life is a fucking mess. It’s not like slowing down is actually an option, and I don’t want to. But it’s still weird, you know? I was on my own for so long, and…” Jayme trailed off, wondering if he was talking to himself right now. His face settled into a thoughtful frown as he leaned forwards over the table a little bit, drumming on the counter to grasp his friend’s attention. “Drew? Drew, are you even listening to a single fucking word coming out of my mouth right now?”

 

Andrew didn’t say anything at first. Instead he looked down at the paper in front of himself, some of the honey blonde curls slipping out of his messy half-ponytail, hanging down his neck. The shop was just about completely empty, no customers scheduled to come in until an hour from now, so Jayme had assumed that he would be able to come in and spill his guts to his second best friend - something he didn’t do all that often - but apparently not.

 

“… Should the end of this leaf be sharp or rounded off?”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes” Jayme cursed, reaching behind himself to grab a hold of his over-stuffed bag, throwing it over his shoulder and standing up, walking towards the door of the tattoo parlor. He wasn’t actually all that angry, and they both knew this was nothing - Drew just had a lot on his mind, not unlike Jayme. But Jayme still had the right to be annoyed in the moment. In his opinion, at least.

 

“Come again!” Drew’s distant voice reached his ears.

 

“You’re a fucking shitty ass friend” Were the last words they exchanged before the door completely slammed shut behind Jayme.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey gnawed on the inside of his bottom lip, his arms crossed over his chest, fingers digging into his flesh. Maybe it was stupid to be nervous about this - fuck if he knew - but he felt as if it had been so long since he had seen Svetlana that maybe he was allowed. It wasn’t that he was nervous about seeing his so-called wife, but rather that he was nervous about seeing someone - anyone at all, really - from his life in Chicago.

 

Mickey hadn’t been here in Rockford for long at all, but it felt like it. He had another life now, and he felt… better. He didn’t feel good, by any means and he still had a fuck ton of shit to work through, but yeah - he felt somewhat better. So of course introducing a part of his old life to his new one was slightly nerve-wracking. As soon as Mickey had gotten the opportunity after the talk that he and Jayme had had, he had picked up the phone and called Svetlana back, telling her the address of the apartment. It was best to do this now. And, if he was being honest - he wasn’t sure if he was really going back to everything immediately. It was easier and better for him if she could just come to Rockford, and surprisingly enough - she had agreed without arguing.

 

Mickey was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Svetlana to pull up with Yevgeny. He had asked Jayme to wait upstairs in the apartment so that he could greet Svetlana on his own, he couldn’t know if she would end up screaming or anything - probably not, but he wasn’t sure. Mickey didn’t need Jayme there for that. It was best for him not to hear that. Speaking of ‘best for him not to hear that’ Mickey was also really fucking hoping that she would stay somewhat in control while Yev was next to them.

 

Mickey had that lump in his throat - that uncomfortable one, the nervous one - but he also had another kind. Another kind of weird feeling in his stomach. It was like he was… excited. And that he was, he realized. Yevgeny might not have been brought into this world in a good way, but that wasn’t his fault. He was Mickey’s son in the end, and Mickey hadn’t seen him in so long. He missed him - he did. It had taken him way too long to see past the annoying baby that came from him being forced to fuck a woman - but now it had been at least a couple of years since that horrible day, so now Mickey actually saw Yevgeny for who he was - his son. It seemed stupid as shit that he had ever blamed him for what happened.

 

Mickey had his phone slipped into the front pocket of his jeans - the same pair he wore pretty much every day because there was no way in hell that he would ever be able to fit into Jayme’s; fucking long and skinny ass giraffe legs. A part of him wanted it to buzz with a text from Svetlana - whether he would like it to say that they were coming soon or that they couldn’t make it, he wasn’t sure.

 

Somewhere in the far distance, he tuned in the train again, and it reminded him of the feeling that had surrounded his body when he had entered this town in the first place. The cold and the wind - it wasn’t all that cold now, but maybe that was just because Mickey wasn’t forced to spend every minute of his days outside on the street and instead had an apartment with his boyfriend. Fucking hell.

 

It hadn’t even been two months since he had been released from prison and met Jayme, but it felt like it had been so very long. It felt like at least six months, and an eternity since he had actually lived in Chicago. Sometimes it felt like a dream - not because this life he had now was everything he had ever possibly dreamed of or some shit, but because it was just so different from how he had imagined his life going once he walked out of that cell. Sure, a crappy ass apartment and a boyfriend - it had all seemed possible once upon a time, of course he had imagined said boyfriend to have red hair and freckles, not turquoise hair and permanent heroin scars. But… he was okay with it. More than okay with it.

 

Right as Mickey’s mind was starting to slip back towards Ian and how he was having a somewhat good life while Ian was doing god knows fucking what - thankfully Iggy’s crappy ass car pulled up to the sidewalk, distracting him. Mickey uncrossed his arms as the engine was turned off and Svetlana stepped out of the passenger side - she looked good, from a homosexual husband’s point of view. He hadn’t seen her in so long; she was wearing a long, beige jacket that looked way more expensive than she should be able to afford.

 

The hair on her head was a little bit shorter and straighter than Mickey could remember, but then again, he had never paid all that much attention to it in the first place. She was wearing boots, too - with heels on them. It was possible that someone in the Milkovich circle had robbed some rich lady’s house and ended up with some fancy ass shit they didn’t need to they shipped it off to Svetlana - it had happened before.

 

Iggy was in the car, as well - not much to Mickey’s surprise. The brothers had never been as close as Mickey had been to Mandy, and nobody in the Milkovich family really talked that much to each other at all, but Mickey had always liked Iggy, and growing up they had had somewhat of an unspoken bond. More of one than Mickey had ever had to any of his other brothers. They never said anything of meaning to each other, but Iggy had always looked out for his little brother, and it didn’t seem to be any different now just because they were adults. Svetlana walked around to the other side of the car, probably to help Yevgeny out. As she did, Iggy took the few steps over to his brother.

 

“Hey, man” Mickey was the first one to speak as their hands locked together in between them, the brothers engaging in a quick bro-hug, a few rough chuckles sounding in the base of Iggy’s throat, his hand hitting Mickey’s back a few times before they let go of each other. “How have you been, man?” Iggy shrugged.

 

“Ah, you know” That was about as deep of a conversation as they ever had, and it was alright. Neither of them could ever remember the time that they had felt the need to have a heart to heart or some shit, it just wasn’t their thing. “This is where you live now, huh?” The older brother took a step and a half back, looking up at the large, beaten down red brick building behind Mickey. There were a few balconies that couldn’t by any means be safe to step out onto - one of them even had a fucking hole in the floor of it, and the building overall looked old as fuck and just straight up cheap and horrible - maybe Mickey hadn’t moved all that far anyway. It looked just like it all did back home.

 

“For now, yeah” Mickey confirmed, nodding. The truth was that he and Jayme had never talked about it - had never talked about Mickey moving out and getting his own place, or getting a job, or paying rent. Of course he was going to do all of those things eventually - at least two of those things, the whole moving out thing would have to be a conversation in between the two of them. Things were actually pretty alright like this, being roommates - but none of this was anything that he wanted to think about right now. He wanted to focus on Iggy and Lana and Yevgeny for once.

 

“Hello Mickey” Iggy backed away as Svetlana walked up to the brothers, her sleeping son clinging onto her shoulder. Mickey had almost forgotten that he always had to take a nap in the middle of the day - fuck, he had been away for a long time. It didn’t use to make him feel all too bad that he wasn’t there for his son, but now as he greeted her back and looked at the little boy, he did have some kind of uneasiness in his stomach. Maybe he was finally turning into an adult, who the fuck knew. “There is a bag of your clothes in the car like you asked” She spoke a moment later, and Mickey nodded, walking around them and taking the few steps over to the vehicle to open the door and lift the gymbag out. Asking them to get him his clothes were in a way admitting that he would be staying here for a while longer - maybe a long while - and he wasn't all too sure how he felt about it, but in the end - like fuck he was going back to Chicago any time soon, he wasn’t ready. So he might as well. Besides - surely Jayme would appreciate not catching Mickey rummaging through his closet every single morning for something that would fit him, because that had been his life for the past few weeks. Even more since they got together and Mickey became more comfortable with him.

 

“Let’s head upstairs. Get some coffee or some shit” Mickey said as he walked back from the car, hearing his brother lock it again behind him before he tucked the keys into the front pocket of his old ass jeans.

 

“We can not stay very long, but a while is okay. Is your new boyfriend up there?” Svetlana asked, accent somehow seeming even more prominent than usual as she leaned her cheek against Yevgeny’s blonde hair, looking at Mickey. He couldn’t really read her all that well, but he knew that she liked Ian a lot so maybe she was angry that Mickey was with someone else, fuck if he knew - nor did he care, because it wasn’t any of her fucking business. Then again, maybe she was just being her normal self and he wasn’t used to her anymore. It had been quite a while since they had seen each other after all.

 

“Yeah” Mickey just said - what the fuck else was he supposed to do anyway? “He is”

 

“Hey, you have a new man?” Iggy asked, turning towards his brother, a grin on his face that Mickey could live without. The last thing he wanted was to discuss this whole Jayme thing with the two of them - he liked Jayme, that was all he knew right now. The rest of it was all a complete blur of confusion. “I didn’t know that, so you’re over Gallagher?” Mickey bit his tongue to keep from feeling that stab in his heart at the name - first or last, it still hurt. But lately… it didn’t hurt because he missed his touch, or his kisses, or his smiles. In the beginning, that had been the main reason. But the past week or two, it had stopped being about that and started being more about Mickey’s guilt for fucking his life up.

 

“Don’t want to talk about it” Mickey just mumbled, starting to walk towards the big doors of the building, pushing them open. Nothing was clear when it came to Ian - nothing was clear when it came to his life back in Chicago, really, even excluding Ian. The last thing Mickey wanted to do was to think about it or try to figure it out, because he had already tried that on a lot of sleepless nights on Jayme’s couch, and he wasn’t any closer to figuring anything out. He was done trying to. For the moment, at least.

 

A silence fell between all of them as Svetlana and Iggy followed Mickey up the stairs, all of their steps echoing throughout the building. The bag of clothes hung over Mickey’s shoulder, the lump in his throat growing a little bit with every step - he knew that nothing bad would happen and he wasn’t much of a nervous person, but he had to admit - introducing his so-called wife, his son and his brother to his new boyfriend - who he had just started calling his boyfriend not even a week ago - it was scary, yeah. But Mickey was one person, he couldn’t keep living two lives, even he was smart enough to see that.

 

“This is it?” Iggy asked behind Mickey as Mickey stopped in front of the door.

 

“Yeah, man” Was all Mickey answered, taking a deep breath and hoping that it wasn’t all too noticeable as he pressed down, pulling the front door open, stepping inside, Svetlana and Iggy doing the same. The first sound to reach his ears was Jayme’s muffled voice, coming from the bedroom and Mickey realized that he had mentioned that Winnie was going to call him whenever she had the opportunity - apparently she was going to get out soon or something so they needed to figure out where she would go once she was outside of the gates. Mickey had to admit that it would be cool to meet her, Drew was a good guy, so if Winnie was anything like her cousin, Mickey would like her.

 

Mickey took a few steps inside before turning around, watching Iggy pull the door closed behind them all. Right as it clicked closed, the little boy started moving around against his mother’s shoulder.

 

“Mommy? Where are we?” Mickey crossed his arms, swallowing. It wasn’t to the point where he was tearing up or some shit, but he hadn't seen the kid in months, of course he liked hearing his voice - despite the fact that he was so little that Mickey could just barely decipher the words. Mickey wasn’t completely fucking stone cold, besides - the boy had grown quite a bit, it was cool to see.

 

“I told you we are visiting your father, yes?” Svetlana’s voice was somewhat surprisingly soft as she turned her head a little bit, talking to her son. At the words, Yevgeny’s eyebrows - however invisible they may seem - drew together a little bit and he blinked, turning his head until his eyes fell on Mickey’s.

 

“Daddy?” Mickey’s mouth pulled up into a smile - this one he didn’t even make a conscious decision to form, it just happened. He had only heard the kid call him ‘dad’ or ‘daddy’ once or twice before, mostly because by the time Mickey had been sent of to prison, Yevgeny had just barely started using his mouth to try to form actual words rather than incoherent babble.

 

“Hey, kid” Mickey said, his voice also a lot softer than it had been a moment ago.

 

“You hold him, I am too hot, I need jacket off” Svetlana spoke, carefully holding the little boy out towards his father, and Mickey took a few steps closer, accepting him into his arms. Maybe it was because the kid was so tired, or maybe he in some fucked up way felt safe in his father’s arms despite the fact that it was a rare place for him to be - either way, Yevgeny relaxed into Mickey’s shoulder pretty much immediately, and he couldn’t help the way that his heart seemed to somehow settle down inside of his chest. In a good way. Mickey wasn’t the softest guy in the whole fucking world, but he liked his kid a lot. And he wanted to be in his life a lot more than he had been, he knew that now more than ever.

 

“Hello” As he turned around to face his boyfriend, Mickey had his cheek leaned against the blonde hair of the little boy that seemed to have fallen back asleep. Jayme was standing at the end of the wall that separated the hall from the kitchen, his back towards the livingroom and the large window. One of his thin, large, white muscle tees hung over his tiny upper body, displaying all of his tattoos both on his arms and the ones on his chest.

 

The blue hair was starting to fade just a little bit at this point, and Mickey guessed that it was time to re-dye it soon - it wasn’t too bad, it was still shock blue, but it was somewhat noticeable. The strands were unstyled, but tired up into a tight bun on top of his head, and for once he had managed to make it so that not a ton of it was falling out - well, some of it did, obviously, but the front part was completely pulled back, exposing his face, it looked good. It always did. Mickey got so caught up in looking at his boyfriend that he was quiet for a second too long - god fucking damn it, he looked good - however, then he snapped out of it and eased his son a little bit further up his body, turning so that he stood right in the middle of them all, looking to Svetlana and Iggy.

 

“Lana, Igg - this is Jayme” Mickey was kind of happy he was holding Yevgeny, otherwise he would have felt kind of awkward, not really knowing what to do with his hands. Now he had a good excuse to just stand still. Jayme stood still for a moment as well, his long, skinny arms crossed over his chest, and had he had muscles in them, they probably would have been quite flexed. He looked a little bit nervous - understandable, Mickey supposed.

 

It was a side of him that Mickey wasn’t all too familiar with, but then again, for the entire time that they had known each other, they had always been in Jayme’s territory and now they were in Mickey’s. Somewhat, at least. Jayme’s face wasn’t pulled up into a smile or anything, but he didn’t look angry either, he just looked - nervous, yeah.

 

Within a second or two, though, he snapped out of it and uncrossed his arms, reaching a hand out to Iggy first since he was closest to him.

 

“Hey, man. Iggy, his brother” Iggy introduced himself easily - and surprisingly politely - as their palms slapped together before going over into a light fist bump. Mickey continued moving Yevgeny slowly up and down, hearing small, soft snores right into his ear. It felt weird to see Iggy greet Jayme - in Mickey’s mind, it was two parts of his life completely crashing into one another, and somehow it seemed to be working out alright.

 

Once Jayme was done saying hello to Iggy, he turned to Svetlana, and this time he reached his hand out to actually shake hers - Mickey had expected her not to take it, because he had a feeling she wasn’t all too thrilled Mickey had a new boyfriend, but for some reason she did take it. A sleeping Yevgeny moved around a little bit to get more comfortable in his father’s arms as Mickey watched his boyfriend and his wife shake hands. Fuck, this was surreal.

 

“You are the man my husband is taking it up the ass from these days, yes?” Svetlana spoke easily once their hands had let go of each other. Mickey could almost see red at that point - thank fucking god he had a son in his arms he couldn’t just throw to the side to tug at Lana’s new fucking hair. Not that he would ever hurt a woman - but sometimes she made him so angry. Why couldn’t this just go smoothly? Fuck.

 

“Well, we - “

 

“She’s fucking with you” Mickey sighed, annoyance clear in his voice as he interrupted his boyfriend’s - surprisingly steady - answer. “Lana?”

 

“Alright. I will behave. But if you go from orange boy to tattoo boy, I just want to know”

 

“Orange boy?” Jayme asked confused, his voice even a little bit deeper than usual - which shouldn’t be possible, but it was something that Mickey noticed would happen when he was around someone he didn’t know all too well.

 

“Ian’s a redhead” Mickey said easily before shifting his attention back to his so-called wife. “And yeah, I went…” Mickey trailed off, trying again. “We’re together, why are you here anyway?” It may have been Mickey that asked Svetlana to come here instead of him having to go all the way back to Chicago - which might seem selfish, but she was fine with it, so he hadn’t spend all too much time thinking about that side of it all - but it had been Svetlana that wanted to meet in the first place.

 

Surely, she had questions or opinions about money, or Yevgeny or other shit back home and honestly - Mickey would love for her to get to it as soon as possible. His son’s soft snores continued pouring into his ear, barely loud for Mickey to hear, and he continued moving his arms slowly up and down, keeping him asleep and calm. It felt good, and oddly natural to have Yevgeny in his arms. It was now that he realized how much he actually missed the kid when he didn’t see him every day.

 

Mickey noted that Jayme crossed his arms again, not seemingly to appear angry or closed off or anything. He just seemed a little bit unsure about what to say or what to do - which Mickey surely understood. He continued holding his son as he turned to Jayme, just raising his eyebrows in question, to which his boyfriend just nodded once, assuring him that he was at least somewhat comfortable - how the fuck they could communicate without words when they hadn’t known each other for even two months, Mickey wasn’t sure, but it had just happened.

 

“I need to talk to you” Mickey nodded before she had even finished the sentence - that’s what he had figured. But he also got a feeling that there was something more behind her words, as if there was something she wanted to say to him but she didn’t want other people around when she did. Raising a kid together for a few years had gotten them pretty close as well - whether they had meant to or not - and Svetlana wasn’t so bad. Harsh, yeah and sometimes she could be a real fucking bitch, but Mickey had met worse. She cared about the kid, that’s what mattered. “Outside? Iggy or tattoo boy can take Yevgeny” Svetlana decided, and Mickey sighed, pressing a kiss to the blond hair before looking to Jayme; he still had his arms crossed and the last thing Mickey wanted to do was make him hold the kid if he didn’t want to, so instead he moved the sleeping boy so that he was holding him under his arms, handing him over to his brother, who wrapped his arms around his little body, holding him safely.

 

It wasn’t strange, Mickey supposed - it seemed that Iggy had gotten a lot closer to both Lana and Yevgeny while Mickey had been away, he probably hadn’t had much of a choice.

 

Mickey followed Svetlana out of the apartment, for a second wondering if it would be awkward to leave his brother and his boyfriend alone together, but fuck it - they were two grown-ass men. He closed the door after himself, then crossing his arms and facing Svetlana, both of them leaning their shoulders against the red brick wall right outside of the door. The air felt a lot less tense at this point, and Mickey realized that he had kind of missed her too… in a way, he supposed.

 

“So you are happy? With him? Here?” Like a fucking bulldozer, there she went. Asking him one of the scariest questions he could possibly be asked at this point in his life. All he could do was keep his arms crossed, digging his fingers into the flesh of his arms, shrugging.

 

“Yeah” Mickey finally answered, feeling that this conversation was starting off to be a fuck of a lot more civilized than he had expected it to be. “I am, I guess. He’s a good guy, it’s all still kind of fucked up, I guess. New town, new people, all that shit” He couldn’t remember the last time he had said this much all at once to her, but it felt good to talk to someone who knew all about Chicago. He wasn’t ready to tell Jayme it all.

 

“No Ian” Svetlana’s voice was flat, and somewhat emotionless. But she didn’t look angry, she just looked… somehow concerned - in her way, that was. They would never say it out loud, but in a way Mickey and Svetlana did care for one another and they probably always would. Mickey just nodded once, or maybe it was twice. What the fuck else was he supposed to say? That it wasn’t strange not being able to call Ian Gallagher his boyfriend? He had more or less been in a relationship with the guy since he had been seventeen - of course it was strange. That didn’t mean he wanted it back, or that it would be good for them to have it back. “He has a new boyfriend now, you know. I see them sometimes” Mickey’s thick, black eyebrows raised almost all the way up to his hairline.

 

Ian. New boyfriend. Already. After a few months, fuck. Then again - Mickey was only a few feet away from his own ‘new boyfriend’ so obviously thinking about it, he couldn’t say shit. It was just surprising, he supposed. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Ian might be able to move on as well, in Mickey’s mind he was still jumping up and down or laying curled up underneath his sheets. If he had a new boyfriend, then that had to mean that he had his disorder somewhat under control now.

 

“Oh yeah?” Was all Mickey pushed past his lips in response, and Svetlana nodded.

 

“Black man. Seems good.”

 

“So he’s good now, he’s - he’s on meds and shit?” Mickey couldn’t help but ask - it wasn’t as if he wanted Ian back at all, even if Ian were to somehow magically turn back into the guy he fell in love with in the first place, then Mickey was with Jayme now. And truthfully, he couldn’t imagine being without the older man - at least not at this particular moment in his life. However - that didn’t mean that he couldn’t care about Ian at all, of course he did. He wanted the best for him, and he wanted him to be happy. Hearing that he might be just that, it… it felt good. Like… like a weight had been lifted off of Mickey’s chest somehow.

 

“As far as I know, yes. He is” Svetlana answered, and Mickey nodded once, continuing to dig his fingertips into the flesh of his arms, keeping them crossed over his chest. “Yevgeny has been asking for father” She made a U-turn topic-wise then, and Mickey frowned a little bit, waiting for her to continue. “That is why I am here. I don’t know how much you want to be in his life, but you should. He deserves a dad, no matter how good or bad, yes?” Mickey had to admit that he was a little bit surprised the first words out of her mouth regarding Yevgeny hadn’t also involved her needed or wanting more money, but he was glad. For the moment, he couldn’t give her much - he didn’t even have a job, which he should get on soon by the way - and maybe she knew that.

 

“Yeah” Mickey answered though, nodding once. “Yeah, I wanna be in his life, Lana. He’s a good kid” Not a single word was a lie. Mickey’s life may be fucked up and complicated. Things were fucked up with Lana, things were fucked up with his family, and with Ian and maybe even somewhat fucked up when it came to Jayme - but Mickey didn’t feel it was very complicated when it came to his son, no matter how he had felt about it a year or two ago. Yevgeny was Mickey’s son, and the last thing he wanted to be was Terry or Frank. “What are you thinking about that shit anyway? ‘Cause I ain’t all that sure I’m gonna move back to Chicago any time soon” Mickey spoke truthfully - he didn’t want to. Then again, if that was the only way he could be with Yevgeny more then maybe he would consider it, fuck. Yeah - maybe his life was more of a mess than he thought.

 

“You don’t have to, a lot of history, I can understand. He could come here once a month to begin with, yes?” Mickey raised his eyebrows at the somewhat casual tone in Svetlana’s voice - but it was also the tone that said that she was phrasing it as a question despite the fact that it was anything but. So Mickey shrugged again, not all that sure of what to say, really. He couldn’t just keep living with Jayme and act as if it was his apartment and he could do whatever he wanted - he wasn’t even paying rent for fucks sakes, this was supposed to be a one or a two night kind of thing and he was starting to feel like an asshole, boyfriend or not. And his mind was running, he realized so he swallowed and answered.

 

“I gotta clear that shit with Jayme first, it’s his place”

 

“Okay, but if boyfriend says no, you get your own place, yes?” Mickey was silent for a beat too long. “Yes?”

 

“Yeah, I got it, fuck”

 

  
***

 

  
Jayme’s arms were still crossed over his chest, but his stance had relaxed a little bit by now, his lips forming a casual, friendly smile as he and Mickey’s brother continued talking back and forth about random, small things that didn’t really matter. Iggy was actually pretty cool, a lot more outwardly friendly than Mickey - not that one was all that much better than the other.

 

Mickey’s son still sat on his uncle’s arm, sleeping with his head resting on his shoulder. Once in a while Jayme’s eyes were dragged down to him; he looked so little. And despite the blonde hair, the small glimpses he had gotten of his face - he looked a lot like Mickey as well. It was kind of weird, Jayme had never expected for Mickey to have a kid - or be married - but he was kind of quickly getting used to the idea. Of course, he had had a few days to melt it at this point.

 

In the middle of Iggy saying something, the door opened again, and he was interrupted, turning around to face Svetlana and his brother. For some reason, Iggy had expected for things to get ugly - sometimes they would when Mickey and Svetlana were left alone, but oddly enough he hadn’t heard any raised voices or anything, and no necks were flushed red in anger, so it looked somewhat promising. Iggy hoisted Yevgeny further up his arm, and Svetlana crossed hers.

 

“We should get going now. Don’t want Yevgeny to be in bed too late” Jayme backed up a little bit, feeling as if he didn’t really have much part in whatever family moment was happening right now, they were just talking a little bit amongst themselves, and he crossed his arms, almost completely at ease at this point while he looked down to the floor, letting his mind travel back to the things that he had to plan out for classes next week. “Mickey you will follow us down and put your son in the car, yes?”

 

“Yeah, alright” Mickey wasn’t sure why she felt that was necessary, but he wouldn’t mind holding Yevgeny for a couple more minutes before they left, he realized as he took a step forwards and Iggy handed off an awake - but incredibly sleepy - little boy. Mickey felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips as Yevgeny leaned against his shoulder, mumbling something half asleep that sounded a lot like ‘daddy’. Then he headed out the door, hearing Svetlana’s heels hit the stone floor right behind him.

 

Jayme smiled a little bit as Mickey walked out of the apartment to put his son into the car - it was really cute, even if Jayme would never really know how to deal with children himself - seeing Mickey just hold his son, it made him like the guy even more. Not that he was all too sure how or why.

 

“Jayme” Iggy’s voice made Jayme aware of the fact that he hadn’t left to follow Mickey and Svetlana down to the car just yet. Instead he stopped over the threshold, waiting for the much taller man to give him a sign that he was listening. Jayme kept his arms crossed over his chest, keeping his face neutral in the few seconds it took for Mickey’s brother to find the right words to say what he wanted. “Me and Mickey, we don’t say it, but uh… I care about him. And he’s been through a lot of shit in the past couple of years” Jayme stayed quiet, looking at Iggy, but he nodded once. He may not know any specifics - but yes. Surely Mickey had been through a lot. “So you take good care of my baby brother, alright?”

 

“I will”

 

  
***

 

  
“Daddy, when will I see you again?” Mickey paused at Yevgeny’s voice as he was leaning into the backseat of the car, putting on the seatbelt to make sure that he was secure in the chair. He felt that small lump grow in his throat again, and he forced himself to take somewhat of a deep breath again. The words hadn’t been very clear - Yevgeny wasn’t old enough for that yet - but Mickey had understood them.

 

“Soon, kid” Mickey smiled at him, large blue eyes meeting small ones. And Mickey knew that he wasn’t lying, because he wanted to be in his son’s life - he really, truly did. He didn’t want to go another month without seeing him - much less another six. before he could overthink it, he dropped a soft kiss to his forehead, and then he ducked out, closing the car-door.

 

“You will talk to boyfriend about Yevgeny staying here, yes? Call me about it” Mickey turned around to face his wife, his head moving up and down a couple of times.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll ask” Mickey promised. Then they were silent for a beat, or maybe two. Then Svetlana said something that Mickey never could have imagined hearing coming out of her mouth in a billion years.

 

“You’re a good man. Jayme is lucky. Make sure he takes care of you, yes? Otherwise I will come here and beat his skinny little ass” Mickey snorted, nodding once more.

 

“Jayme’s a good guy, Svet. Don’t worry about me” After that, Iggy walked out of the building, heading towards them.

 

“We should get going, Lana” Svetlana nodded at that, and Mickey rolled his eyes when she blew a kiss. Then she entered the car, leaving Iggy and Mickey alone on the sidewalk. The brothers smiled at each there easily, their hands locking for a second as they engaged in a quick hug. “See you around, bro”

 

“Hey - “ Mickey stopped his brother right as he was about to head around the car to the drivers-seat. “Have you talked to Mandy at all?” The air in between them became immediately colder and more sad. What was with this whole rain thing anyway? As if the clouds could sense the mood, small and tiny droplets started painting the asphalt - barely noticeable. But they were there.

 

“No. No, Mick. I haven’t”

 

  
***

 

  
Svetlana and Iggy had only visited for about an hour, but by the time Mickey placed his hand around the handle, pulling the front door of the apartment open again, he was fucking exhausted. Maybe because he had just been worried about how everything would go - not that he had admitted that to himself all too much. But now it was over - Iggy and Svetlana had met Jayme, this thing with Jayme was real, it wasn’t some fucked up amazing dream or some shit, it was - good. It felt… good.

 

Jayme had been sitting on the couch, but Mickey heard him getting up as he entered. The tall man had his arms crossed over his chest, a comforting smile on his lips as Mickey looked up. Svetlana had said that Jayme was lucky - fuck no. Had she even seen this guy? If anyone was lucky it was Mickey.

 

“You look happy” Jayme commented, Mickey taking a step closer to him. He was - he realized. Not just because he had seen his brother and Svetlana again - and Yevgeny - but there was another reason. There was one pretty big reason why he felt good, and why the weight on his chest wasn’t nearly as heavy as it had been a few hours ago. As it had been ever since he had been thrown into prison.

 

“Found out Ian’s got a new boyfriend” Jayme raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised that Mickey had chosen to say that, to bring it up. But Mickey needed to say it, for some reason. Because it made him… yeah, it made him happy. Jayme’s face fell a little bit, his hands staying curled around his skinny upper arms, a small strand of blue hair falling down from his temple.

 

“I’m sorry, Mickey. Bet that’s difficult to hear”

 

“No” Mickey immediately shook his head, shrugging. For a second, his eyes were focused on his boyfriend’s chest, somehow hypnotised by the way the ink was visible through the thin, white cotton of his muscle tee. He searched his brain, trying to come up with the right words, but finally they just seemed to spill out of his mouth. “No, you know, I…” Mickey looked up into his boyfriend’s eyes, shrugging. “I guess I was worried that he wasn’t happy or some shit, but… he is” Jayme seemed to catch on to what Mickey was getting at, his face settling a little bit, mouth pulling up into a soft smile again. “Knowing that, I guess I don’t have to feel guilty or some shit”

 

“For what?” Jayme asked, his eyebrows drawing together again. With their eyes connected, Mickey shrugged, shaking his head a little bit, letting Jayme know that he wasn’t ready yet. Or ever would be - telling his new boyfriend about his ex boyfriend’s disorder seemed to be stepping over the line, that wasn’t Mickey’s story to tell, not really. Mickey took a few steps forwards until his arms were slipped around Jayme’s skinny waist, head tilted upwards while his boyfriend’s was tilted downwards. Mickey hadn’t loved this whole height difference thing in the beginning, but he was starting to like it now. Jayme’s arms wound perfectly around his neck, holding him close.

 

“What?” Mickey asked after a few moments of silence, noticing Jayme bite the inside of his bottom lip.

 

“Get your jacket on, alright? Want to take you somewhere” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure how happy I am with this chapter, but I really hope that it wasn't all too messy. More things are starting to happen now - more and more characters from the show will come in and Winnie will obviously be out soon. There will be *a lot* of angst. Ian will be a part of this story at some point, but I won't spoil more than that. Also - do you really think that I'm gonna let Ian be happy with Caleb? Pshhh, give me a few chapters.   
> So yes. Comments and kudos are of course incredibly appreciated, I'm gonna try to get better at responding to comments, but I read every single one and you guys truly make me so happy <3 
> 
> I really hope that you all have a great day! <3 xo


	19. Let It Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no breaking, mate” Were the words that came out of Jayme’s mouth once he was at the top, pulling both of his legs over and turning around, climbing down the other side of the fence for a moment before finally just letting go and dropping, stumbling a step backwards once he landed, but quickly regaining his balance and adjusting the beanie on top of his head to make sure it was sitting right. “We’re just trespassing” Mickey could do nothing but snort in amusement at that, taking a step closer to the fence and wrapping his own hands in it. 
> 
> “Like you more and more with every fucking day”

As much as Mickey didn’t exactly mind walking around, drowning in Jayme’s t-shirts, he had to admit that it felt really fucking nice to be back in his own clothes for the first time in so long. Especially that one, black muscle tee that was actually his own size; he wore it underneath his brown hoodie, zipping it up about half way and leaving his jacket be despite the fact that he knew it was likely that he would end up regretting it since the weather was pretty much growing colder by the second. It wasn’t even November yet, surely they would all be in for a hell of a winter - then again, that wasn’t that different from every single year that Mickey had grown up. He had to admit that sometimes he wondered how Jayme could wear less clothes than him while at the same time look as if he froze less - being that he was both incredibly skinny and had grown up in a hot climate back in Australia.

 

“Where the fuck we going anyway, man?” Mickey asked him as they walked out of the run down apartment building and their feet hit the pavement. The rain was still there, peppering the grey surface and making it darker in some spots, but it wasn’t pouring by any means, really. Jayme had his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket while Mickey had his own in those of the hoodie that he had actually kind of missed wearing - he did his best not to remember who had worn it before him. Their steps fell into a rhythm as they started walking, Jayme remaining silent for a beat before finally answering his boyfriend’s question. Sort of.

 

“You’ll see” Mickey rolled his eyes, but didn’t ask again. Mostly because there was something different in Jayme’s voice than what he was used to hearing. It was still deep, of course, still carried that confidence. However, there had been a small, slight shake to the words that let Mickey know that wherever they were going, maybe it meant a lot to Jayme to take him there. So Mickey bit his tongue, and he followed.

 

Ten, or maybe even fifteen minutes later, the two of them had walked down the long street where Jayme lived, and they had also rounded a corner, all of which took them to what looked like a slightly worse part of town - believe it or not, because the place where Jayme’s apartment was located looked incredibly scrappy - not that Mickey had a problem with it whatsoever. They continued walking, and Mickey got lost for a moment in his head, realizing that this particular part of Rockford actually quite reminded him of the couple of blocks where he had spent a lot of time growing up - there were a few apartment buildings, a couple of convenience stores - although they didn’t look to be twenty four hours, because they were getting ready to close up when Mickey and Jayme walked past. Which made sense, Mickey supposed, the air was slowly going from grey to black at this point, the clock ticking closer and closer to ten and eleven pm.

 

“Here” Jayme’s murmured word caught Mickey’s attention, and he realized that they were standing sort of on the sidelines of the city at this point - since his knowledge of Rockford didn’t go all that much beyond the apartment and Drew’s tattoo parlor, he couldn’t really know what the different streets were called, and nor did he really care all that much to. In front of them was a large hill, covered in grass that was surely bright green, had it been the summer - or had there been daylight enough that Mickey could actually see said grass very much. The rain continued dripping down on top of them, but it seemed to have slowed down even a little bit more, so Mickey barely noticed it. What he did notice, though - was the large fucking wire fence in front of them, separating them from the hill. He also noticed how Jayme wrapped his hands in it, starting to climb without much hesitation whatsoever.

 

“Breaking and entering, man?” Mickey raised his eyebrows despite the fact that his boyfriend wasn’t looking - surely there was a reason why the fence was there, and Mickey doubted it was because people were meant to climb it and go beyond. Jayme didn’t say anything for a beat, busy with lifting his entire body, his large hands clenching the thick wires, knuckles surely turning white somewhere beneath the ink. Jayme had that one, black beanie on top of his head that he wore quite a lot of the time, his white muscle tee still hanging off of his body beneath the leather jacket. The incredibly tight skinny jeans and the large, rounded off combat boots seemed to make the task of climbing the fence a little bit more complicated than it technically had to be, but Mickey watched Jayme do it, and it actually looked quite smooth - surely this wasn’t the first time that he was climbing this exact fence.

 

“There’s no breaking, mate” Were the words that came out of Jayme’s mouth once he was at the top, pulling both of his legs over and turning around, climbing down the other side of the fence for a moment before finally just letting go and dropping, stumbling a step backwards once he landed, but quickly regaining his balance and adjusting the beanie on top of his head to make sure it was sitting right. “We’re just trespassing” Mickey could do nothing but snort in amusement at that, taking a step closer to the fence and wrapping his own hands in it.

 

“Like you more and more with every fucking day” Jayme chuckled darkly, waiting for Mickey to join him on the other side of the wire. The fence was a lot taller than your typical wired fence, so just like Jayme, Mickey had to fight a little bit to get himself up and to find some kind of way to poke the front part of his shoes into the squares of it, pushing himself up. Finally he did it, though, sitting at the top part of the fence and picking his legs over to the other side, climbing down a little bit before jumping, his feet flat on the ground again. “Am I missing something?” Mickey asked, a joking tone to his voice as he looked up at the abnormally tall man in front of him. “The fuck are we going?” He tried again, to which Jayme just shrugged, a smile on his lips while he turned around.

 

“It’s right up here” Mickey forced himself to keep from rolling his eyes once again when he followed his boyfriend up the hill; he couldn’t see much in the dark but there weren’t any trees or anything of that nature, it was just that - a hill. Which made Mickey confused because why the fuck would there be a fence around a fucking hill? And why would Jayme take him here? Mickey figured that there was probably some kind of meaning to it - especially when he thought back on how Jayme’s voice had shook just a little bit when he had told him that he wanted to show him something. It was just that Mickey was curious and he wanted to know. Jayme walked a few steps ahead of him, the two of them making their way up the steep hill. In fact - it was so steep and so tall that Mickey couldn’t really see all that much beyond it. Then - quite suddenly - Jayme turned around and he sat down, just like that.

 

“This it?” Mickey asked, taking his hands out of his pockets, his arms hanging casually by his sides as he looked around for a moment - a hill. He wasn’t really able to understand right now why Jayme had wanted to bring him here. When he looked back down, his boyfriend was looking back up at him, a smile on his lips - one of the ones that showed off his perfect teeth, one of the ones that Mickey would never be able to say no to.

 

“You’ll understand in a moment, yeah? Just sit down” Mickey was tempted to ask again, but he had a feeling that it was a much better plan for him to just obey and shut up - for the moment, at least.

 

So that’s what he did; he turned around and he sat down right next to Jayme, thankful that the rain wasn’t all that bad, because if it had been pouring, then the grass would have been soaked - making this whole thing a less than pleasant experience. Once they were both sitting, looking down at the fence quite a bit in the distance, Mickey realized that there was probably something more to this place than what he saw right now - some kind of reason as to why Jayme had brought him, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t like this moment as it was. He really kind of did.

 

They were on top - well, almost on top - of a large fucking hill, not much sound filling their ears save for the slight dripping of the rain and the rumble of the cars inside of the town in the distance. The fact that they had just broken the law, even if it was just a little bit, that didn’t hurt either. It made Mickey feel like himself, as fucked up as that was - it was how he had grown up. Mickey still couldn’t see all that much, because at this point, the darkness had fallen just about completely, surrounding them and wrapping them up in the night. Neither of them said anything for a beat - then;

 

“Found this place back when Winnie got locked up, yeah? When I decided I wanted to get off the stuff”

 

Mickey hummed, turning his head. Jayme was looking straight ahead of himself, his feet planted onto the wet grass, his elbows leaned onto his knees. Mickey was just able to make out the outline of his profile, realizing that he wasn’t smiling, he didn't look sad - he looked as if he was simply reminiscing, like he wanted to share this with Mickey, and honestly? Something happened in the base of Mickey’s stomach at that thought. Something good.

 

“I think I was just walking, and I found it by mistake, you know? But…” It was such a random thought, honestly - but Mickey fucking loved hearing Jayme say the word ‘but’. The syllable carried an even deeper pitch than his voice usually did, then again - Mickey could listen to Jayme reading a fucking brownie recipe and he wouldn’t be bored, because that voice was… fuck, he would never be able to explain or understand why Jayme sounded so hot all the damn time, but he did. “I had been clean for a couple of days, maybe and… since then it’s kind of helped me. You know, given me another way to get that rush without taking anything”

 

“By climbing a fucking fence you’re not supposed to pass?” Mickey couldn’t help but ask, raising his eyebrows - knowing full well that there was probably something else to it, something Jayme hadn’t revealed yet. Jayme turned his head to look at his boyfriend, that smile back on his lips for a moment. They looked at each other through the darkness, just for another beat. Then Jayme turned his head back, straightening his legs out a little bit while he laid down, his back flat against the grass. Mickey frowned, wondering what the fuck this exactly was all adding up to, but he mirrored Jayme’s action anyway, laying down as well, hands resting on his stomach. They were silent for another beat, both looking up into the sky, completely relaxed before Mickey frowned, turning his head once again to look at his boyfriend. “You gonna tell me what you’re waiting for?” A quick, amused sigh slipped out through Jayme’s nose, and he hummed.

 

“You’ll know in a couple minutes” At that, Mickey turned his head back, continuing to look up into the dark sky. Despite the fact that he didn’t have much of an idea why they were here, or what they were waiting for, he felt at peace. This had never been his thing - being calm, or finding a way to some kind of inner peace or some shit, none of that had appealed to him, and he doubted that it was Jayme’s thing either. But just laying here, waiting for whatever the fuck, he kind of liked it. The rain wasn’t really falling anymore, a drop on Mickey’s face once every tenth second, maybe. The rumble of the city was still present in the distance, and Mickey could also hear the slight, calm breaths of his boyfriend laying next to him. Yeah - yeah, he liked it. It felt good. “Now”

 

“What?” Mickey turned his head to Jayme, eyebrows furrowing right as he heard the noise behind them, growing closer and closer to obnoxiously loud by the second. Jayme didn’t get a chance to respond to Mickey’s question before both of their reflexes kicked in and they pinned their arms to the ground by their sides, digging their fingers into the grass, their screams not nearly loud enough to overpower the sound of the plane taking off right above their fucking faces. Some kind of light appeared, Jayme’s dark and loud laughter blending with Mickey’s surprised screaming - though he may have been laughing a little bit too - as they felt as if they were floating in space for a moment, or maybe it was two. Mickey felt Jayme’s hand clench his own in between their bodies, his stomach turning just about completely as the sound and the powerful feeling continued. This couldn’t possibly be safe - it was the scariest moment of his entire life, but he really fucking loved it too. It felt as if he was flying, as somehow as if his body was being ripped apart, but not in a bad way. It just felt… really fucking awesome. “What the fuck?!” Mickey’s loud voice was obvious once the plane had disappeared a little bit in the distance, the feeling passing.

 

Jayme’s dark laughing continued just as loudly, his body still flat on the ground of the hill, his head thrown back, eyes clenched shut as the beautiful sound continued to escape his mouth. Mickey was sitting up now, if only to recover from the shock; of all the fucking things he had expected. His mind was just about completely blank - that was easily just about the most intense shit he had ever experienced.

 

“You couldn’t have fucking warned me or some shit?!” Mickey reached his left hand out to Jayme’s shoulder, pushing him as the blue haired man did nothing but continue his laughter, the dark, chuckles just about music to Mickey’s ears - as fucking cheesy as it sounded and as easily as he could swear on his own - and Mandy’s, and probably Yevgeny’s life too - that he would never say it out loud, it was true. That’s what Jayme’s laughter was to him. “I fucking hate you” Despite the words that were now coming out of Mickey’s mouth, his sounded all but malaise; in fact, he was having an incredibly difficult time keeping his mouth from pulling up into a huge, cheesy ass fucking grin. Jayme was still laughing - kind of like he had been laughing that time when Mickey had walked into the livingroom and found him on the rug, rolling around because Drew had said something to set him off - the sound quite honestly made Mickey’s stomach tingle. He reached his hand out again, pushing at Jayme’s shoulder. But to his surprise, Jayme was quick enough to wrap his strong, slender hand around his wrist, in one way or another finding the strength to pull Mickey on top of him, their clothed chests pressed together, Mickey looking down at Jayme while he calmed down.

 

“You don’t” Jayme stated, wrapping his long arms tightly around Mickey’s middle, keeping him close. Mickey’s elbows rested on his chest, his hands ending up by his cheeks as they looked at each other, a few chuckles still sounded in the base of both of their throats, eyes looking into one another’s. The rain started to pick up a little bit more now, dropping down around them, quite quickly soaking Mickey’s back, but he couldn’t find the bother to mention it. This moment was kind of… great. The ground around them was growing muddy quickly, and there technically wasn’t anything cozy or romantic or whatever the fuck about the situation they were currently in - but… Mickey liked it. It felt like them.

 

“‘Course I fucking don’t” Mickey breathed, dead serious, blinking a few times in an attempt to get rid of the water droplets on his eyelashes. There it was again - that turning in his stomach, that large fluttering feeling that had to be a little bit too powerful to be labeled as butterflies. It was pouring by now - Mickey thought that maybe he could even hear some thunder in the far distance; here it was - this had been hanging in the air for days and now it was coming down. They could barely see each other, yet they stayed still for another beat, Jayme tightening his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, tugging him closer. They both closed their eyes at the same time, opening their mouths, ready to kiss each other in that perfect way that made anything and everything else in their worlds completely disappear - before they could actually do so, though - they were interrupted.

 

“Hey! Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” Mickey straightened up by straight reflex, turning his head to where the sound was coming from, immediately being blinded by those annoying ass blue lights. His vision was slightly blurred because of the rain, which meant that it took him a beat to understand what was happening; he caught on, however, when Jayme started moving underneath him, pushing him off of his body.

 

“Fuck, fucking hell. Mickey, run!” It didn’t take very long at all before Mickey’s curse words blended together with Jayme’s and they were both on their feet in the mud, rushing after each other to get down to the fence again. Jayme’s legs were so fucking long that he was a few steps ahead, but Mickey wasn’t all that far after him as he heard the police continue to yell after them to freeze. The rain sped up quite a bit, and Mickey had to concentrate to make sure he didn’t put his feet in the most slippery places. Had there not been cops after them and adrenaline pumping throughout Mickey’s body, he probably would have been impressed with how fucking fast Jayme could run - and how easily he just somehow gripped a hold of the fence and pulled himself up, passing it in half the time that he had climbed it when they had entered.

 

Then again, Mickey could hear the cop getting closer, so he did virtually the same thing, although it surely wasn’t as pretty as when Jayme did it. Mickey fought, getting to the top of the fence as Jayme turned around, kind of bouncing on his feet and waiting for the other man to pass. Once Mickey’s feet were on the asphalt, they immediately started running again. Surely they were safe now, but they continued anyway. Maybe it was the rush, or the pouring rain that seemed to do nothing but pick up - maybe it was the late night, or the fact that Mickey had just gotten one more tiny piece to the puzzle that was Jayme - either way, all four feet continued hitting the ground, both of them rushing towards the apartment in the storm.

 

Jayme was still quite a few steps in front of Mickey, so the younger man pushed a little bit more to speed up, finally catching up somewhat. Most of the sounds around them were caused by the howling wind and the rain hitting various roofs, but there was also the cars in the middle of the city, tearing through water in a rush to get home. Even as they were in the street, away from both cops, fences and airplanes, Mickey and Jayme continued running, almost as if they were competing about who could make it to the door first. Finally, they were there, Jayme pulling the large door open so that they could continue running up the stairs, their fast steps echoing throughout the building, their clothes and hair dripping onto the floor.

 

By the time they actually opened the front door and rushed inside of Jayme’s apartment, they were both completely out of breath, Mickey’s heart absolutely banging against his ribcage like a fucking sledgehammer or some shit. Although - he doubted that that was simply from running, he always got that feeling around Jayme. The door slammed closed behind them, and they stopped, turning to each other. Mickey hadn’t realized it until just now - but they were both laughing, almost so hard they were crying - the sound filled up the apartment, and something else happened to Mickey’s heart. It felt light.

 

“That was fucking close” Mickey was the first one to say anything, a few chuckles still falling off of his lips as a few raindrops dripped down his cheek, the rain continuing to slam against the large window opposite of the room, his heart doing the same against his ribcage.

 

“Close?” Jayme asked, a large fucking grin on his face. His voice was so much deeper than it usually was - rougher, probably from all of the running and laughing. “Close is when you fucking get away with it - that was nowhere near close!” They both started laughing again, some adrenaline surely still running throughout their veins, then finally, they just kind of stopped.

 

Quieted down and looked into each other’s eyes, the rain and the stormy night a loud background noise. Jayme’s tongue slipped out of his mouth to wet his lips, staying trapped in between them for a moment as he reached up to the top of his head, laying his hand flat on his hair, his beanie close to falling off. Mickey looked up at him, his heart doing that weird flip thing; Jayme’s eyes had a lot more brown flecks in them than he had originally thought, he had never really noticed that before.

 

Tonight, after everything - Mickey knew what he wanted. So he relaxed, and he took a step forwards, bringing his right hand up to the back of Jayme’s neck, parting his lips and placing them against his. Jayme directly reciprocated, humming lowly somewhere in the very back of his throat and wrapping his arm around Mickey’s waist, their tongues touching while the kiss quite quickly grew to be more. Mickey’s hand curled, his fingers grabbing a hold of some of the fabric of his boyfriend’s beanie, making it fall off of his head and down onto the floor. Mickey wasn’t thinking - for once he didn’t need to. He wanted this. They wanted this. So fuck it.

 

“Mickey…” Jayme broke the kiss after only a couple of seconds, quite obviously noticing what was on Mickey’s mind. But Mickey just swallowed, shaking his head and chasing after his lips once again.

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay”

 

Their lips continued nipping at each other’s, the cool metal of Jayme’s snakebites resting against Mickey’s bottom one. The older man broke it for just a second again before tilting his head and going in for even more, sucking Mickey’s lips in between his own, craving the taste and that fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

The rain was still not showing any kinds of signs of slowing down, and who fucking knows? Maybe that was the reason why Mickey finally found the courage to bring his hand down from Jayme’s neck and instead place both of them onto his chest, starting to push the open leather jacket off of his shoulders, making it even more clear what he wanted tonight. What he was ready for now.

 

Much to his surprise, Jayme just let go of his body, shrugging the clothing item off without breaking the kiss or second guessing; the leather dropped to the floor, the zipper causing somewhat of a loud noise, but neither of them flinched at it. Then Jayme’s long arm was back around Mickey’s waist, tugging him close. Mickey still wasn’t completely used to having to tilt his head up so fucking much to kiss someone, but he kind of liked it - they had unspokenly figured out by now that it was much easier for Jayme to bend down than for Mickey to have to get up on his toes.

 

Both of Mickey’s hands were back on Jayme’s neck, tugging him down so that he could continue to eat at his lips, craving it more and more by the second. Maybe Jayme should have been a rebound. Or maybe the logical thing to do would have been to have fucked him the very first night, and then gone back home - but - he couldn’t. Jayme was… nothing and nobody had ever felt quite this right. Jayme was Mickey’s.

 

Jayme’s large hands soon rested by the zipper of Mickey’s hoodie, starting to pull it down to get it off; Mickey continued kissing him, but brought his hands down from his neck, successfully helping him get rid of the clothing item, hearing it fall to the floor as the kiss deepened even a little bit more, Jayme’s deep-pitched hum reaching Mickey’s ears again, letting him know that he was just as into it as he was. Without either of them really making all that much of a conscious decision, both of them toed their shoes off, starting to move a little bit further into the apartment. Mickey’s hands were on the neckline of Jayme’s soaked, loose, white tee by now, tugging at it, wanting him closer as the heavy makeout session continued, their tongues tangling together, Jayme pressing at his boyfriend’s back, thirsting to have him even closer than he could possibly come.

 

Jayme didn’t know what it was about Mickey - he didn’t really know a lot about the guy, but… fuck. In his own way, he seemed to be almost as damaged as Jayme was himself. He had never once in all of his twenty five - almost twenty six now - years met someone who could make him feel as normal as Mickey did. What Jayme did know was that he wanted him - now, and probably for a long time.

 

“Wait, wait” Mickey forced himself not to whine when Jayme broke the kiss - once again -, both of them completely out of breath where they stood now, right outside of the open bedroom door, the bed practically staring them right in the fucking face. The storm was doing nothing but growing stronger, the rain pounding against the window and the last thing that Mickey wanted to do in this particular moment was talk - he just wanted Jayme. On him, behind him, anything. They had waited long enough in his opinion. Jayme licked his lips, looking down at Mickey as the younger man waited for him to say something. “It hasn’t been very long since we decided we weren't gonna do this” Jayme pointed out, his voice dark and quite out of breath. “Are you - “

 

“I’m fucking sure, man. Come on” Mickey interrupted him, tightening his hold around the collar of Jayme’s shirt, chasing after his lips once more, craving it. Although - it only lasted a second before he broke it again, much to Jayme’s confusion as he looked down to see his boyfriend’s face settled into a deep frown. “But um…” Mickey looked down at Jayme’s chest, biting at the inside of his bottom lip - he wanted to fuck Jayme, or have Jayme fuck him or whatever - he honestly didn’t care at this point, whatever he was into was fine.

 

However - it wasn’t as if he could do it with his shirt on, so… he didn’t have much of a choice, as much as he didn’t want to reveal this. Especially since Jayme’s body was covered in professional tattoos that were fucking beautiful. It was like Mickey took a deep breath or some shit, and then he reached behind himself, peeling his shirt off. He didn’t look at Jayme, but he knew that he could see it now.

 

One of the biggest mistakes of his entire life - the fucking tattoo of Ian’s name that was etched into his chest. He supposed that it hadn’t been as bad if he had got it done professionally - or if it had been spelled right, what the fuck had he been thinking? Honestly, he couldn’t even really remember doing it, hell - maybe he had just been surrounded by that fucking cloud of sadness and memories of Ian or some shit. Mickey wasn’t sure.

 

“It’s not even fucking spelled right, I don’t fucking know what I was thinking. I hate it” Mickey swallowed thickly, looking down onto the floor. It wasn’t as if he regretted his relationship with Ian - of course he didn’t, he had been his first love, and in a way he supposed he would always love him. But the tattoo? Yeah. Mickey hated it. He didn’t even want to think about Ian’s reaction when he had seen it, he had been so fucking -

 

“It’s alright, Mickey” Mickey’s depressing thought-trail was interrupted by Jayme’s deep, soothing voice, his large hand on the side of his neck, encouraging him to look up into his eyes. All Mickey could possibly see when he looked was kindness - compassion. He had seen a few different emotions in Jayme since they had known each other - anger, annoyance, uncertainty, amusement. But kindness was the one that seemed to be there most of the time, and maybe that was the reason why Mickey felt so… at ease.

 

Around him, all the time. Mickey swallowed, the lump in his throat just somehow disappearing.

 

“We all have a past” Somehow that was enough, and Mickey placed his hands back onto Jayme’s neck, resuming the kiss. This time it felt even more certain - they were doing this. They wanted to do this, and although fucking had never been a big deal to Mickey, he really liked Jayme. A lot. So despite the fact that neither of them would ever be the kind of people to have candles or music or cheesy ass shit like that - this was, in a way, special.

 

Mickey’s entire body was doing something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. That turning in his stomach, and that fire in his veins, it all could really only mean one single thing.

 

The apartment had all of the lights turned out, leaving them both somehow in their own little bubble with the rain continuing to be the background noise while they continued kissing, hands wandering over each other’s bodies. Mickey slid his hands down a little bit, his eyes staying closed, mouth against Jayme’s as he started to tug at the hem of his shirt a little bit, the makeout session breaking for only just long enough that Jayme could peel it off of his tall, skinny frame, throwing it to the floor beside them both. Mickey wrapped his arms around his waist, pushing out the thought of how he felt so much thinner without clothes on - he didn’t want to think about that shit right now, just like he didn’t want to think about his own shit.

 

The kiss continued, the two of them somewhat slowly stumbling inside of the dark bedroom, the sound of the rain growing a little bit stronger since Jayme liked to keep his window open for most of the day.

 

Despite his thin frame - and despite his ice cold skin thanks to the rain, there was something incredibly warm and inviting, and Mickey pulled him even closer, attempting to deepen the kiss even a little bit more, their tongues battling, saliva being exchanged. Fucking hell, this man was intoxicating. It didn’t take very long before two, large hands were placed onto Mickey’s collarbone, pushing him backwards, his back hitting the soft covers; he heard the sound of Jayme’s zipper, a couple of seconds later accompanied by the noise of the clothing piece hitting the floor, and then his tall frame was climbing on top of Mickey, straddling his hips.

 

Mickey parted his lips, accepting the kiss more than eagerly, his hand landing on the back of Jayme’s neck, the - dry, thanks to the beanie that had once sat on his head - strands of blue hair slipping through his fingers. Mickey, still to this day could not quite figure out why the fuck someone as amazing as Jayme would want him. Jayme was kind, and strong, and - fucking beautiful - despite his dark past, he was everything. Although, by now maybe Mickey had started to just accept it as reality and be thankful as fuck that they had somehow found each other - it was a good fucking reality, too.

 

Their bodies were chilled from the rain that was still raging outside of the window, but they were quickly warming up, their mouths molding together, Jayme’s large hands and long fingers curled around either side of Mickey’s waist, keeping him pinned to the mattress, the cold feeling of his rings making Mickey’s head spin, his head lifting a little bit off the bed in an attempt to deepen the kiss even further.

 

Their noses were completely smashed into each other’s cheeks, Mickey finding it difficult to breathe in the moment, if only for the fact that his heart was beating so strongly against his ribcage that it was overpowering all of his other senses. They continued kissing, the breeze from the open window causing goosebumps to appear on their skin. Jayme’s right hand disappeared off of Mickey’s waist, and Mickey barely registered the fact that he was reaching over to the nightstand, fumbling to get a hold of the stuff.

 

Mickey clenched his hand into a fist, grabbing a hold of some more of his boyfriend’s hair, tugging on it in an attempt to bring him even closer, an attempt to deepen the kiss even more, almost as if it was impossible to get enough, and maybe that was the truth. Any time that they had kissed or made out, or even touched in the past, they had always had to hold something back.

 

Because they had both decided to draw a line that they wouldn’t cross, but now they had decided to in fact cross it, so there was no reason for them not to completely give in to each other. The kiss soon broke, and Mickey felt Jayme’s grip around his right hip tighten, his lips being placed to his jawline, the slight chill of the studs in his bottom lip still present. Mickey’s hand stayed in the blue hair as he let his eyes fall closed, body completely relaxed while Jayme’s lips nibbled at his skin, first his jawline, then his neck and then going down further and further.

 

Mickey didn’t do anything, he just kept his eyes closed, every fibre of his body buzzing at the attention, and he knew that it wouldn’t be half as strong, if it wasn’t such an amazing man going down on him. The sound of the rain and the breeze coming from the window somehow made it all so much better as well, it made Mickey feel safe, like he and Jayme were truly inside of a bubble of their own. He swallowed, Jayme’s thumb rubbing smooth circles on the skin of his stomach while he continued kissing down his chest, leaving a slight trail of saliva since they were hot, open mouthed kisses.

 

Mickey ran his fingers through the blue hair, trapping his bottom lip in between his teeth, a frown line showing in between his eyebrows, growing deeper the further down the bed and his body that Jayme moved. He continued leaving kisses all the way down to Mickey’s barely showing v-line where he stopped, quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them down; Mickey kept his eyes closed until the piece of clothing had hit the floor, leaving them both in their boxers, that’s when he looked down, seeing Jayme down by his crotch, their eyes connecting for a second.

 

“What do you want?” Jayme asked breathily, voice even more rough, even deeper than it typically was. Mickey swallowed, brushing his fingers through the blue hair, and catching his breath for a second before answering.

 

“Wanna bottom, man. That cool?” When Mickey had been younger, he had obviously been embarrassed over being into guys, but oddly enough he had never once felt any extra shame over the fact that he liked to take it - it was kind of his thing in bed, it wasn’t as if it made him a bitch or some shit. Jayme hummed in response, getting up a little bit and pressing their lips together into one more open mouthed, sloppy kiss before easing himself down the bed once again, throwing the stuff aside and hooking his long, ink covered fingers into the waist band of Mickey’s boxers.

 

Mickey closed his eyes once again, knowing that they were done talking now. They had way more important things to do. Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard the soft sound of his boxers hitting the floor beside the bed, and he sighed a little bit, relived to have the pressure off of his cock. He was just about as hard as he could possibly be at this point; he wanted Jayme so fucking badly - he wanted this.

 

Mickey’s hand was still resting in the blue hair, so he could feel the exact way in which he moved. How he eased down the bed even a little bit more to get into the right position, how he kept one of his hands wrapped around Mickey’s waist, placing the other one right at the top of his thigh as he dipped his head, finally sticking his tongue out and licking one single, thick stripe up from the base of Mickey’s cock all the way up to the head, collecting a tiny, small drop of precome that had leaked out.

 

“Fucking hell” Mickey whined, biting his lip even harder and tightening his hold on Jayme’s hair. Why the fuck he had such a strong reaction to the small act, he wasn’t sure, but he assumed it had something to do with the fact that it had been the very first time that they had ever touched each other’s cocks at all - out of their clothes, that was. Jayme wasted no time repeating the act, the frown line in between Mickey’s eyebrows growing even a little bit deeper. Then - fucking finally - Jayme actually closed his mouth around the tip of Mickey’s cock, swallowing down inch by inch, forcing Mickey to bite his own lip to hard that he was almost tasting blood. “You’re so - fuck” Mickey wasn’t sure what he was saying, or even what he was trying to say, really. His mind was just about completely blank save for the fact that Jayme was sucking his cock, and he was so fucking good at it.

 

Jayme’s large hand was still curled around Mickey’s waist, his right one resting open at the base of his cock, palm pressed against his skin while he swallowed down almost half of Mickey and then went up again, repeating the action, taking more and more of him every single time. Mickey continued holding onto the blue strands, his body somehow completely relaxed and kicked into high gear all at the same fucking time. Jayme took him so fucking easily and so expertly, and Mickey wasn’t all too sure if it felt so amazing because he was that good at it, or because Mickey was just that fucking into him - he supposed that it was both. Either way his mind and cock were both being blown at the moment.

 

Mickey kept his eyes shut, and he soon felt Jayme’s hands move from both parts of his body, sliding upwards as his mouth continued to work him. A slight tinge of iron filled Mickey’s mouth, his eyebrows knitting together, head tilting backwards when Jayme thumbed his nipples just a little bit, both the breeze from the window and the touch making them hard, causing Mickey to bite his lip even a little bit harder, because fuck the way Jayme was working him. Both his hands and his mouth, he was just… holy fucking shit. Mickey’s chest was heaving up and down, his stomach tightening. Not because he was anywhere close to coming yet, but because everything just felt so fucking perfect - the night they had had, the moment, the rain, the open window, the dark apartment - Jayme. Fucking perfect.

 

Mickey breathed in heavily as Jayme sped up a little bit, doing some kind of movement with his tongue at the tip of the cock that Mickey wasn’t all too sure what it was, but it felt fucking amazing. Then he swallowed him down again, and Mickey continued gripping his hair with his right hand while he lifted his left one to his own head, tugging at his own roots, almost as if he was going insane, which frankly - couldn’t possibly be way too far off. Mickey’s entire body was littered with goosebumps and he wasn’t all too sure what was thanks to Jayme and what was thanks to the breeze, but either way it all added up to him biting his lip even a little bit more forcefully, somehow finding that there wasn’t a single place on earth where he would rather be right now.

 

After a while, Mickey felt Jayme’s hands disappear off of his body, his mouth letting go of his cock. He let both of his own hands fall to the mattress, relaxing back against the bed, his heart continuing to beat forcefully against his ribcage as he heard the slight pop of Jayme opening the lube, then the noise of some of his rings being thrown to the floor. Mickey opened his eyes just in time to see Jayme ease himself down the bed again, their eyes connecting through the darkness as the storm outside seemed to pick up even a little bit more, making even more goosebumps appear on Mickey’s arm and torso.

 

“You good with this?” Jayme’s words were so mumbled and so husky that Mickey could just barely decipher the words, but the second it clicked in his head, he nodded, his tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip in anticipation.

 

“Fuck yes, man. Please” Mickey barely recognized his own voice either - it was a lot darker than he was used to, maybe even laced with pleasure and need and every other feeling that was currently coursing throughout both of their veins. Jayme hummed, taking Mickey back into his mouth, and Mickey closed his eyes once again, relaxing further back against the covers, his eyebrows knitting together, a few of the fingers on his left hand tangling into his own hair in pleasure as Jayme went back to swirling his tongue around the slit, collecting some of the precome, Mickey digging his teeth back into his bottom lip. Something about the way that the breeze from the window chilled his skin and the way that Jayme’s mouth was hot and wet around his cock made it all so fucking perfect, made small, slight moans fall off of Mickey’s lips.

 

Jayme was sucking Mickey’s cock so eagerly and so good that Mickey barely noticed his finger against his rim until he actually started to push it inside, the amount of lube he had used making it quite easy. Mickey bit his bottom lip even more, bringing his hand back to the blue hair, unable to keep himself from tugging at both Jayme’s hair and his own. It had been so fucking long since he had had anything inside of him at all, and the fact that this was the first time with Jayme just made it all so much better.

 

A grunt sounded in the base of Mickey’s throat, and Jayme responded with a low, dragged out hum while he moved his finger out of Mickey once again, pushing inside and starting to work him open a little bit. The vibrations of the hum rolled right into Mickey’s cock - quite fucking literally - and made him knit his eyebrows even further together, his hips lifting off of the mattress just a little bit, torn in between whether he wanted to buck up into Jayme’s mouth or push against his finger.

 

Jayme mumbled something around his cock that sounded like ‘relax’ so that’s what Mickey did - or tried to do - he tried to relax back against the covers, enjoying the rain and Jayme’s attention. It was just really fucking difficult with the way that he was working him, driving him insane and they weren’t even fucking yet - jesus fucking christ.

 

Mickey tugged at his own hair, and at Jayme’s hair as Jayme bobbed his head up and down his cock, swallowing him down time after time, all the while working him open, slowly scissoring two fingers from side to side, stretching him enough. The storm was completely raging outside, the window even moving a little bit from side to side despite the fact that it was supposed to be able to stand still even as it was open. Mickey kind of fucking loved it - they both did - the pounding rain and the screaming storm right outside, and yet they were here, inside. Safe and - well, mostly - warm. Mickey tugged even a little bit harder at his own hair, finding it difficult not to buck his hips. Jayme’s mouth felt so fucking hot, and so, so good. And while his fingers were anything but thick, they were long and seemingly experienced, reaching spots inside of Mickey that he didn’t know were even there.

 

“You’re so fucking - “ Mickey tried, but he didn’t get further, he couldn’t, because he didn’t know where the fuck he had been going with that. His mind was just about completely blank, mouth parted at this point, because he couldn’t possibly stay quiet; moans and groans poured out of his mouth no matter what he did.

 

Then, Jayme started to slow down, finally letting go of Mickey’s cock with a thick sound before slowly sliding his fingers out of him. Mickey stayed still for a beat, his body relaxing, chest heaving up and down still, his heart struggling to slow down, continuing to beat heavily against his ribcage for a second or ten. Mickey felt as if his entire body was already exhausted, kicked in and out of high gear, but he knew that there was more to come - the best kind. He was littered with goosebumps, not unlike Jayme at the moment. Mickey had to admit that he was really fucking glad they had decided to wait, because this moment - this night - was perfect. At least for the two of them. Once he felt strong enough, Mickey opened his eyes, getting up onto his elbows, his legs still resting calmly against the covers.

 

As he laid eyes on him, Jayme was looking down, pushing his boxers down his own body, a slight sigh reaching Mickey’s ears as his hard cock was relieved of the pressure of the fabric. He threw them to the side to join their other clothes, leaving them both completely naked. Mickey’s tongue darted out without him even really realizing it; fucking hell he wanted that thing, it was huge. In fact, Jayme’s cock wasn’t much unlike him - thin, but so, so fucking tall.

 

Mickey pushed himself up to stand onto his knees, looking up at Jayme, their naked chests only about inches from each other. Darkness was still mostly surrounding them, so Mickey couldn’t see all that much, but he could see Jayme’s eyes. And the slight shine of saliva on his bottom lip, fucking hell - Mickey couldn’t help but go in for another kiss, their open mouths molding together, Jayme’s large hand landing on the back of Mickey’s neck as their tongues slid over each other for a few moments. Mickey wrapped his left arm around Jayme’s naked waist, tugging him closer while he wrapped his right hand around his cock, unable to help himself. He just wanted to feel it, wanted to have it. A low groan sounded in the base of Jayme’s throat as they continued kissing, and Mickey moved his hand up and down, jerking him off just a few times, feeling the weight in his hand. Fucking hell, he couldn’t wait any longer.

 

“Fuck, just do me” Jayme chuckled into Mickey’s mouth at his whine, stealing one more, deep kiss before pulling away with a slight smack, their hands falling off of each other. Mickey could have laid down onto his back, but he instinctively turned around onto all fours instead - it was what he wanted right now. He liked Jayme, so so much - but face to face fucking was something he had only done with one person before - and he wasn’t intending to do it again until he knew someone else like that - until he was sure that he was in love, he just wasn’t comfortable.

 

Mickey heard Jayme moving around behind him a little bit, the sound of a condom being ripped open, probably by his teeth. He was still for a second, and then Mickey’s eyes closed - Jayme placing his hands onto his waist once again. They were warm by now, but the cold air coming from the open window, the storm making loud noises outside, it all made Mickey’s skin cold, so the contrast between his boyfriend’s large hands on his body made his head spin, his teeth capturing his bottom lip between his teeth before Jayme had even done anything.

 

Then - fucking finally - Mickey felt it. Jayme tightened his grip a little bit, the tip of his cock resting against Mickey’s hole, slowly but surely starting to press inside. He wasn’t going all too slow, but slow enough that Mickey could close his eyes and dip his head, enjoying every single inch, every single second of feeling himself being filled again after so fucking long - filled by Jayme’s cock, he was doing this with Jayme. That just made it all so much fucking better. There was that slight, familiar stinging and the throbbing that came from him stretching him out, but it was overpowered by so much fucking pleasure.

 

Jayme wasn’t thick, but as he finally bottomed out, Mickey felt that he had to be so much longer than anything else he had ever had inside of him, he reached spots inside of him that Mickey didn’t know were there, and he hadn’t even moved yet. The storm continued to rage on outside of the open window, keeping them both inside of their bubble together. Mickey curled his hands into fists, clenching the covers inside, pushing back a little bit, urging Jayme to move.

 

Jayme tightened his grip on Mickey’s waist even a little bit further, keeping him in place as he obeyed; Mickey felt him pull out until only the very tip of his cock was resting inside of him, and then he rolled back in again, not too fast but certainly not all too slow either.

 

“Fuck” Mickey sighed, his head hanging in between his arms as he dug his nails into the sheets, listening to the howling wind and the rain, focused on the mindblowing feeling of Jayme’s cock inside of his body. His hot breaths on his back, the slight, deeply pitched grunts that fell from his lips as he repeated the action, pulling his cock out and then rolling back in again, even a little bit faster this time, starting to build up some pace.

 

Mickey captured his bottom lip in between his teeth, continuing to rock backwards, meeting the thrusts, his eyes closed, eyebrows knitted together in please. Holy fucking shit. This felt so fucking good, right - not just the fucking but Jayme fucking him. Mickey had been fucked by quite a few people in the past, but only one could even come close to comparing to Jayme, how he felt when he was with him - and in some way, Mickey had to believe that that meant something.

 

Jayme picked up the pace, and the rain picked up its. Mickey kept his head hanging in between his arms, his mouth becoming dry as his lips were parted, curses and grunts falling from them, blending with the howling wind and the matching sounds coming from his boyfriend’s mouth behind him. They somehow got lost in each other and their movements, just giving into the moment and the pleasure, the breeze from the window stopping them from getting that thin layer of sweat covering their bodies.

 

Mickey was biting his bottom lip to tightly that he could taste that tinge of iron on his tongue once again, his eyes clenched closed, fists onto hugging the covers harder and harder before he finally let go of it with his right hand, groans continuing to fall out of his mouth as he reached back, placing his hand on Jayme’s lower back, right above his ass, pushing him even deeper. A low groan fell from Jayme’s lips, and Mickey doubted that he had ever heard a more arousing sound in his entire fucking life. He put both of his hands back onto the covers, letting out curses and moans, moving back against Jayme’s thrusts.

 

Being that it was their first time together, and that the moment was just about as perfect as it could possibly get, neither of them lasted very long at all. Jayme reached around Mickey’s body, wrapping his large hand around his cock and giving it a few good tugs, helping him get there. Mickey felt his balls and his stomach tighten, and then finally - they were both done. Jayme stayed balls deep inside of Mickey, filling up the condom, Mickey exploding onto the sheets with strangled moans that just barely overpowered the sound of the crashing rain and the howling wind outside of the window. A sob fell from Mickey’s lips, his body overpowered by the amazing release, his eyes clenched shut in pleasure, Jayme’s fingers digging into his flesh.

 

Jayme’s hot breath was on the back of Mickey’s neck, and then they finally just collapsed, the older man on top of the younger one, their legs tangled together. Mickey still had his eyes closed, lips parted as he caught his breath, enjoying the comforting heat of Jayme’s body on top of his own. It just felt so fucking right.

 

Almost so good that he wanted to complain when Jayme shakily forced himself up for long enough to get rid of the condom and tie it off, throwing it onto the floor before he rolled to the other side of the bed. Mickey laid still for a second, the breeze hitting his back that had just been covered by Jayme’s chest. Then he realized he was cold, so he rolled over, straight into his boyfriend’s chest, throwing his arm over it, leaning his cheek against his collarbone without even really thinking about it twice. Some simple things like that - things that Mickey had always had to overthink - they just kind of came naturally with Jayme. It felt good and right.

 

Jayme wrapped his arm around his body, welcoming him and keeping him close, leaning his chin on the top of his head while they both willed their hearts to slow down to their normal pace, their stomachs still buzzing from the orgasms. Mickey swallowed, pulling himself even a little bit closer, looking out of the window for a beat. It wasn’t all too black anymore, the sky carried more of a deep, greyish cobalt color now. Jayme’s sigh hit his ear, his thin arm tugging him even a little bit closer.

 

Mickey relaxed into him, a comfortable sigh falling from his lips as well. Then he looked down. Jayme’s cock laid soft and relaxed, spent onto his stomach, the head glistening with left-over come. But that wasn’t what caught Mickey’s eye, surprisingly enough. What caught his eye from this angle, was his hipbones. How unnaturally they were poking out from beneath his skin. Like a spray painted skeleton or some shit. Mickey swallowed roughly, his stomach doing some kind of flip, and this time it wasn’t one he liked. The thought of someone so good - someone he cared so much about - looking like that, it just kind of upset him. Mickey’s head stayed rested against his collarbone as he lifted his hand, carefully bringing it down, brushing his fingers over his skin.

 

“Don’t worry” Jayme mumbled into the black hair, his voice deep, tired. “I’m working on it, I have it under control” Mickey relaxed at the words, closing his eyes as he went to sleep. Because how could he possibly have known, how much of a lie that actually was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Yeah. We're here now, that happened. I don't even know if that was good enough or whatever. Anyway, I hope that some of you are still enjoying this story, and I'm actually really excited to get into more angst because I'm a monster. So. Yeah. Have a great day, I love all of you so much <3


	20. Me and My Head High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Jayme and Winnie were done hugging, that’s when Drew took a few steps further in, and that was also when Jayme was reminded that there was a fourth person in the apartment.
> 
> Before he could introduce them, though, Winnie had already stepped around his tall frame and took the few steps over to the shorter one, looking at Mickey as she put her hands on her waist.
> 
> “So you’re Mickey - good fucking god, you’re just about as bloody tiny as I am”

The weather out in the world early the next morning was a lot softer than it had been the night before; that incredibly light feeling that always seemed to be the aftermath of a terrible rain storm; the grey sky was present, and the slight chill in the air made it feel as if it was absolutely full of completely unlimited oxygen to breathe in. The rain hadn’t even stopped completely just yet, drop after drop was falling down from the color devoid sky; but it wasn’t the kind of rain where you could hear it, or really even feel it. It was more the kind that if you happened to look at a tree, or a plain colored wall, you could see it falling down softly, calming down from the absolute raging storm of last night.

 

The flat asphalt was a shade darker because of it all, the cars that were driving along the roads, splashing water on the occasional pedestrian.

 

Jayme breathed in the light air again and again, enjoying the feeling of it all filling his lungs; the slightly chill air laying against the skin of his face, and the many, tiny, tiny drops of water falling down onto him every single second.

 

This morning was a good one; he felt happy. Somewhere in the far distance, maybe he could hear a crow screaming, the cars driving along the roads of the city. The very slight sound of the rain falling registered in his brain as well, though the most prominent was the sound of his skateboard beneath his feet. His right foot his the asphalt another few times before he brought it up, putting it onto the board as he reached a slight down-slope of the street, the wheels speeding up.

 

He had woken up a little bit too late today - which he would normally beat himself up for, but he wasn’t bothering with that today, he was alright with being twenty minutes late to class. Jayme was twenty five years old - he was about to be twenty six - he had had his share of good moments in his life, it was inevitable. Of course he had - though the bad ones, he would argue were a larger percent. But this morning was one of the best ones; he just felt light in sort of every single way possible. His heart, and brain, lungs. His life.

 

It wasn’t that it was perfect - because it surely wasn’t - he had a lot of shit to deal with, and he knew that his boyfriend did as well. Probably even things that he wasn’t ready to tell him - and the other way around; that one he could be sure of. But for the moment, things just felt good. Smooth, and easy. And maybe things in between Jayme and Mickey wouldn’t stay that way forever; at the moment, they were kind of living in this bubble - it was inevitable for it to burst at some point, but all Jayme could do was hope that whatever this was - it would last.

 

Because it was something he would want for a long time - this lightness he felt this morning. The happiness that had only come from waking up with him.

 

The large, slender hands were tucked into the pockets of his small leather jacket, keeping them out of the cold, just as he was doing with his nose, hiding it in the large, grey loop scarf that he had winded around his neck. It was quite clear that though snow wasn’t here - nor the weather that made it feel as if it was close - winter was surely coming. The black henley that he had put on underneath his leather jacket was proving to be a little bit too thin to keep him perfectly warm, his toes starting to feel cold inside of the large combat boots as well. That was something that Jayme had had to get used to when he and Winnie had left Australia; he had never had to deal with snow there, or being cold, really. It had always just been warm. He still wasn’t perfectly sure how he felt about it, some days he liked it, and other days, he just fucking missed the sun and the beach. Even the yellow grass.

 

Jayme’s tongue was resting on the inside of his bottom lip, toying slightly with one of the metal plates of his snake-bites as he continued catching speed with his foot, rolling along the streets, getting closer to the college campus that he had managed to get into. He took his left hand out of the pocket of his jacket for a brief second, bringing it up to his head to make sure that the black beanie was staying in place, protecting most of the blue strands from becoming wet; sometimes when it got wet, it would bleed some of the blue dye. Something he didn’t care much about at home, because he could just throw his sheets - or whatever else - in the washing machine, but he would really rather not have his hair drip color onto his text books.

 

The sound of the skateboard wheels rolling along the street continued filling Jayme’s ears as he curled his hands into fists inside of his pockets, continuing to breathe in the morning air.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey didn’t wake up all at once; it all went somewhat slowly. His brain registered the fact that some kind of cold air was hitting the side of his arm, goosebumps being created; he frowned in annoyance, still half asleep tugging the covers almost all the way up to his chin, and he flipped over from his back to his left side instead, burying his face in the blue stained pillow, sighing deeply while he continued sleeping for another few minutes; feeling oddly and content, though he wasn’t awake enough to think those thoughts yet.

 

Then something beneath his body made a noise, like a crinkle, a piece of paper. At that, the thick eyebrows furrowed even a little bit more, his body starting to come into full consciousness once again. He started moving his body a little bit, eyes not yet open as he felt the sleepiness that still remained in his body; he wasn’t sure how many hours of sleep he had gotten, but he knew it couldn’t have been a lot with how he felt. His head was hurting a little bit, probably for that reason, and that reason only.

 

Mickey flipped onto his back once again, starting to ease himself up to sit at the same time as he forced his eyes to open up. What he was granted with was the sight of an empty bedroom; daylight spread over the apartment, almost a greyish tint to it, probably coming from the weather outside. He turned his head, looking out the window, seeing that the rain hadn’t quite completely stopped from yesterday, but it had slowed down a fair amount, no sound with it as the drops continued falling softly against the glass over and over again. The sky was the kind of grey that could almost be called white - no shade of blue to it at all at the moment.

 

Mickey’s chest lifted up for a moment, and then he relaxed, sighing heavily. It felt strange, now - in the morning. In the daylight. Everything that had happened last night just kind of felt like some kind of messy dream. Not just Jayme, but even the things that had gone on earlier in the day - with Svetlana, and Iggy, and Yevgeny. It was bizarre to have two parts of his life collide like that, but it had all gone down surprisingly smoothly.

  
Then - of course - there was also the night. He brought his right hand up to his mouth, thumbing his bottom lip as a few flashes came back into his brain, memories. Sex wasn’t a huge deal to Mickey, and it never really had been. But Jayme was the one and only person that he had ever fucked that meant something to him - with one exception, of course - and the fact that they hadn’t immediately done it, it was just kind of cool. It felt good.

 

Which brought up the question in Mickey’s brain - where the hell was he? He had kind of hoped to wake up next to him again. Said question was answered, though, as Mickey remembered the crinkling sound that he had heard a few minutes earlier, and he looked down at the other side of the bed, seeing a sheet of paper, ripped out from some kind of a notebook, a short message written on it.

 

_‘Had an early class, didn’t want to wake you. Be back later.’_

 

Underneath, there was a quick drawing of a heart - Mickey almost had the urge to roll his eyes at how cheesy this guy could be, but he restrained from it, because it was one of the things he liked about him. Once he had read it, he took his eyes off of the note, turning his head to look at the window, almost wanting to scowl at the cold that was slipping in threw the crack where it was still open. A part of Mickey just wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to with wind creating goosebumps on his skin. So finally, he pushed himself up onto tired legs, taking the few steps over to the window and closing it, closing the blinds as well, just because he could. Then he turned back around, contentedly climbing back into bed.

 

  
***

 

  
All of six hours or so later, Mickey was sitting at a corner of the couch with a huge cup of coffee, and a bowl on the table that had once contained cereal; it was a little bit too late to be eating breakfast - in fact, Mickey had never been a person to sleep all day, but seeing as he had literally been awake until six am or something, he hadn’t had much of a choice. He had no fucking idea how Jayme had managed to pull himself out of bed and to school - what the fuck. He was a crazy person. Had it been him, Mickey would have skipped it; fucking easily.

 

The thick pair of grey sweatpants protected Mickey’s skin from the heat of the coffee up at he rested it in between his knees, a random black t shirt covering his upper body; he had the vague idea that it might have been Ian’s at some point or another, but he chose not to think about it. They had mixed up their clothes way too much for him to be sure back when they had lived together, and besides - who gives a shit? It didn’t matter, anyway.

 

The weather stayed grey and rainy all day, and it was showing no signs of clearing up; not that it was much of a problem for Mickey as he didn’t have anywhere to be anyway - which was something he felt shitty about every once in a while. Back when he had lived in Chicago, back before he had got thrown into jail, he had had a job. Well, not a steady one or anything, but he had been doing a lot of job with the rub and tug, and he and his brothers had been running their fair amount of scams a few times a month. At least Mickey had been making some kind of money, doing something. Legal or not.

 

Since he had gotten out, and somehow ended up in Rockford, and somehow met Jayme, and somehow started calling him his boyfriend - it had been a lot. Just a lot of shit taking up space in his brain, a lot of things he had needed to figure out. But now that he and Jayme were in a good place, and Svetlana knew about Mickey’s life, and… he felt as if things were maybe calming down a little bit, becoming better, and somehow somewhat secure - Mickey wanted a job. He had no fucking idea what he could get - and he had no idea if he wanted it to be legal or not, obviously it would be easier if it wasn’t, but it could also really fuck him up again, get him thrown back into jail if he messed up too bad.

 

Before that thought could go much further, the annoying sound of Mickey’s ringtone reached his ears, and he rolled his eyes at the name on the screen before placing his cup of coffee down onto the table in front of him, turning down the volume of whatever cartoon was currently playing on the television. Then he pressed accept, holding the device up to his ear.

 

“What?”

 

 _“Have you talked to boyfriend about taking Yevgeny?”_ Mickey bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid; of fucking course he hadn’t talked to Jayme about whether it was alright for him to have his son stay here - honestly, that was kind of fucked up. Mickey wasn’t even paying rent, so that would make him that loser brother in whatever that show was called.

 

“It’s been a fucking day, you gotta give me more than that” Thankfully, Mickey managed to keep from barking at her - though his voice carried some sort of blade of annoyance to it. Svetlana was silent for a beat after that, probably trying to figure out if she should be angry with him or not; and apparently she decided that it wasn’t all worth it at the moment;

 

 _“You don’t have to take him often”_ She sighed. _“Just a time or two, you promise to take him more when you have apartment and job, yes?”_ Mickey chewed at the inside of his cheek, not sure if he should be relived or not. As much as he wanted to spend time with his son - he just wasn’t in a place right now when he could take him in every other week, or however often Svetlana had wanted to begin with. It would be cool to be able to do that in a few months, a few years, whatever - but Svetlana was a great mother, he knew that. He was alright with her. Mickey would like to be a good dad, but he barely knew how to take care of himself right now.

 

“Yeah” Mickey said. “I’ll take him whenever I can. I’ll visit, I don’t fucking know. Just give me some time” It was really the only thing he could think to say; in fact, he felt kind of bad. That he wasn’t there for his son - or for his wife, because romantic feelings or not, that’s what she was - but he made the conscious decision to push it out of his brain whenever he thought about it. Just like he did with Mandy, or even Ian - Mickey still felt somewhat fucked up himself, how could he deal with other people? He’d figure it out at some point, but not today.

 

“Okay” Svetlana finally sighed over the line. “Say hello to Jayme for me” Then the line clicked, leaving Mickey slightly confused as to why she bothered; then again, she wasn’t a bad person, he knew that. She just liked to seem like she was sometimes.  
Mickey sat there with his phone in his hand for another moment before throwing it to the other end of the couch, picking his cup of coffee back up again.

 

  
***

 

  
About two hours later, Mickey was in the same place on the couch, though now he had actually taken a shower and changed into jeans to feel somewhat more like a human being; hanging around the house - or apartment - in his sweatpants or underwear all day kind of brought him back to the months before he had gotten thrown into prison. When Ian had been the worst, that’s what he had always been doing whenever he was feeling pissed, or sad. Mickey just didn’t want to go back there.

 

“I’m back” Mickey looked up towards the front door at the sound of it opening along with Jayme’s voice coming through the apartment; the door was slightly shielded from his vision where he was sitting on the couch, so it took a second or two before he actually saw him, but when he did, he noticed the fact that his mouth was pulled up into a grin - something that wasn’t very common when it came to Jayme. Well - Mickey was used to seeing it, but he wasn’t one of those people that just walked around and smiled to themselves. Mickey had a feeling that he was a little bit extra happy because of last night - something he wasn’t alone in.

 

“Hey, man” Was what Mickey bothered to say back, his own smile on his lips as he watched Jayme let go of his book back, a ‘dunk’ sound happening as some large book or something collided with the cement floor through the thin fabric. He had been carrying his leather jacket in his hand, and he walked back to the hooks by the front door to hang it. Mickey turned his head, looking out the window for no other reason other than the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged the weather since this morning; it wasn’t all that different. Just some more sun, probably creating a rainbow somewhere in the city.

 

Jayme took his shoes off, keeping the beanie on as he walked into the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen and opening the door to the refrigerator door. Mickey got up from the couch, watching the tall frame for a minute while he stood still, seemingly deciding what to eat before reaching in and grabbing an apple, then heaving himself up onto the kitchen counter right across from the fridge as Mickey passed the cement wall that divided the livingroom from the kitchen.

 

“Man, can I ask you something?” Mickey asked, crossing his arms, the left side of his body leaning against the kitchen counter as he looked up at Jayme, who nodded, taking a third bite of the red spotted apple; it wasn’t a small one, but it looked tiny in the large hand. Mickey got distracted by that fact for a short second before he got back on track, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it - it wasn’t a fair question at all. ‘Yo, I know we haven’t been together, or even known each other for more than a couple months or whatever, but can my kid come live here?’ That wasn’t the exact question - it wasn’t as if anybody wanted it to be a permanent thing, but it was still kind of fucked up. “Lana - she’s getting tired of the kid. I said I’d take him for a little while at some point, but it’s hard without having my own place or whatever. Figured I should maybe get one.” Mickey shrugged, waiting for Jayme to finish chewing.

 

Mickey couldn’t really bring himself to ask if Yevgeny could come live here - even if Jayme did say yes, it was an apartment meant for one person, or maybe two. It would be incredibly cramped, honestly. It would just be so much easier for him to get his own place, and he wouldn’t have to worry about stepping over boundaries, or feeling guilty because he was technically just a guest. Mickey had never been someone who liked to depend off of somebody else, honestly. But with Jayme, that’s all he had been doing lately. It was starting to feel a little bit wrong.

 

Besides - if Mickey had his own place, maybe somewhere in between Rockford and Chicago, that would give him a chance to spend more time with his son, and it would give him and Jayme a chance to get to know each other, and actually be boyfriends, spend time together in a way that was normal to do after only knowing each other a short while - right now, though they weren’t fighting a lot or anything, they were kind of stepping on each other’s toes.

 

“You want to move out?” Jayme asked after he had swallowed, immediately taking another bit of the apple as he looked at his boyfriend, who nodded, shrugging.

 

“Yeah, figured it would be a good idea, right? I mean, we wouldn’t be living together if my life hadn’t been so fucked up, might as well” Mickey’s life was still kind of fucked up - or really fucked up - but the only way he would ever really get back on track and feel good about it was if he did something - like got his own place, it would be good. That’s how he felt right now at least.

 

Jayme took one more bit of the apple, chewing it and swallowing before throwing the rest of it across the kitchen, making it land in the sink before looking back to Mickey.

 

“Or…” He started, letting Mickey onto the fact that he wasn’t all too keen on the idea of him not living here anymore. One of his long arms were draped over Mickey’s shoulders, and Mickey suppressed the smile that wanted to develop on his lips as he went to stand in between his legs, the bony knees resting on either side of his waist. “You could not do that, and instead you could officially move in” Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, letting the words hang in the air for a second before he finally understood them; Jayme wanted him to… actually live here.

 

Not that it would make a whole lot of a difference, of course - they had been living together for quite a while now. Been roommates, or whatever. But it had always been Jayme’s apartment, and Mickey had been staying ‘until…’. The idea of it being their apartment wasn’t all too revolting, in fact - Mickey liked the idea. Odds were, if they had met under different circumstances, they wouldn’t have been living together for another few months, and maybe even longer. It just wasn’t normal to move in with someone after a couple of months, but they were both fucked up, their lives were fucked up, and Mickey was already ‘staying’ here. So if Jayme wanted him to actually ‘live’ here, then what was the problem?

 

“You really want that?” Mickey had to ask, a somewhat surprised smile on his face as he placed his hands on either side of Jayme’s hips, feeling his legs wrap around his waist, pulling him a little bit closer as Jayme shrugged, then nodded.

 

“Yeah” He said; and for a short second, Mickey thought of his voice again. He was so used to it now, as supposed to when they had first met, and he had been so blown away by how deep it was - along with his accent of course. Now he only thought of it once in a while, oddly enough, mostly when Jayme just said one word, like now. Mickey thought that maybe his boyfriend’s voice would always be one of his favorite things about him. “Wouldn’t make much of a difference, and if you left…” Jayme trailed off, his tongue resting in between his visible teeth as he smiled, laying his arms around Mickey’s neck, causing the shorter man to mirror his grin. “I’m thinking I might miss you quite a bit, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, alright” Mickey said through a happy chuckle, nodding once or twice. “Yeah, I’ll fucking move in” Jayme’s chuckles blended together with Mickey’s for a short second before they both shut up, their lips melting together, having better things to do. All of Jayme’s limbs stayed wrapped around Mickey, keeping him close while Mickey had his head slightly tilted backwards to make their height difference less of a problem, his bottom lip easily slipping in between Jayme’s. They soon pulled apart with a small sound, Mickey’s fist holding onto the loose fabric of the black henley.

 

“I’m getting a job and paying rent, though. Not fucking freeloading anymore” Even if Jayme had never said anything about it, Mickey just felt really fucking crappy living somewhere for free. Not to mention spending all of his days doing nothing while Jayme went off to college, studying and making a future for himself and shit.

 

Jayme didn’t protest Mickey’s statement whatsoever, instead he just nodded, his legs relaxing, though his arms stayed wrapped around Mickey’s neck, their faces hovering close together still.

 

“You know what you would like to do?” At that question, Mickey had to keep himself from snorting, because - no. That was the fucking problem. He had no idea how to get a job and make money. Honestly, because his entire life, he had had illegal jobs. Well, except for that one summer at the Kash and Grab, but he barely remembered that. It had only been to shut up his probation officer anyway. Illegal scams and drug delivery was the only thing he had ever done, but after spending months in prison, he didn’t want to go back there, so going back to that life would be a shit move. Especially with a kid in the picture, he knew that.

 

“No fucking idea, man. I’m thinking - “ They were interrupted by the sound of the front door suddenly opening, along with a voice calling Jayme’s name - surprisingly dark as well, given that it was a woman’s voice. Mickey frowned, backing away from his boyfriend as he witnessed his face light up, though his perfect eyebrows were also somewhat furrowed in confusion.

 

“Win?” That’s when it clicked in Mickey’s head that it had to be Winnie, the friend he talked about once in a while.

 

Jayme walked out of the kitchen, still incredibly confused - she wasn’t supposed to get out for another few weeks, what the hell? But there she was, standing a few feet inside of the apartment, with a grin on her face. That ugly, orange jumper was nowhere to be seen, instead she was dressed in black leggings and a large grey hoodie, her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail; it was quite obvious that she had just gotten out, maybe a few hours ago, because she still didn’t look like the Winnie Jayme knew. The one that wore heels, tons of makeup, and - always - hoop earrings. But either way, she was fucking out - something they had all been waiting for for months and months and months.

 

“What the fuck?!” Jayme asked loudly, laughing as he wrapped the - tiny - girl up in his arms, feeling her hugging him back. It lasted for a good minute - they hadn’t been able to hug each other in a year. Not that it was a regular thing for the two of them, but still. “They just let you out, just like that?” He asked when he let her go, and she nodded, shrugging.

 

“Overcrowding or something, yeah. I only had a couple of weeks left to go, remember? So they just told me I could leave, and I called Drew to pick me up…” Winnie explained; shrugging. She seemed just as surprised to be out as Jayme was. “Fucking so happy to be out of that place” This wasn’t normally them when they were together - all happy and just pure - usually they were the kind of friends to either laugh really fucking hard, or just sit on opposite ends of the couch and insult each other whenever they saw the opportunity for a good shot - but now they couldn’t help it. Jayme knew how fucking miserable she had been in that place.

 

Jayme looked up, seeing that Drew was standing right behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, his regular clothed mouthed smile on his large lips; he supposed Winnie and Drew had already had their moment to say hello when he had picked her up. Once Jayme and Winnie were done hugging, that’s when Drew took a few steps further in, and that was also when Jayme was reminded that there was a fourth person in the apartment.

 

Before he could introduce them, though, Winnie had already stepped around his tall frame and took the few steps over to the shorter one, looking at Mickey as she put her hands on her waist.

 

“So you’re Mickey - good fucking god, you’re just about as bloody tiny as I am” The long, black ponytail flipped to the side quickly as she tilted her head, continuing to look at Mickey for a second longer, though just as he parted his lips, ready to fire a shot back, she turned to Jayme, who looked as if he wanted to do a face palm. “You know, he doesn’t look like much, you usually like them tall, yeah? And black. Remember that bloke - “

 

“Win” Jayme interrupted her, knowing all too well she could go on forever - and usually he listened. Laughed at the funny comments she made out of the blue, but; “Please” The last thing he needed was for her to assume that Mickey knew something he didn’t, and for that to become a whole thing. Not that he had any huge secrets of any sort, but their relationship was still kind of new, they hadn’t had the time to have all of those conversations yet.

 

“Alright, I’ll shut my fucking mouth then” Winnie finally agreed, the british in her accent more prominent than the australian. Then she shrugged, turning back to Mickey, who still wasn’t exactly sure what to say. She seemed like one of those people who just talked and talked, and you couldn’t get a word in - but she had also insulted his height, so she was a double threat. Why did he kind of like her so far? “Welcome to the fam, Mick” She slapped his chest, and then she and Drew both walked past them into the livingroom, leaving Mickey raising his eyebrows at his boyfriend.

 

Jayme snorted, taking a step closer and wrapping an arm around his neck, pressing his nose into his temple as he whispered;

 

“You’ll love her, it just takes a while”

 

  
***

 

  
An hour or so later, Winnie and Jayme had positioned themselves on the couch, talking about something or other that Mickey couldn’t quite hear, seeing as he was way over in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a root beer in his hand. He figured he should give them some space, they obviously hadn’t talked outside of a prison visiting room in months. Then again - Mickey also just kind of preferred being on the sidelines for the moment being, he didn’t mind. Winnie seemed cool, but she was extremely loud - something Mickey didn’t like to be in the middle of, if he could help it. It just wasn’t his thing.

 

“Hey, um…” Drew entered the kitchen, talking somewhat lowly to make sure Winnie and Jayme didn’t hear him, though the way they were laughing, there wasn’t much of a chance of that happening.

 

“Man, what’s up?” Mickey just asked, watching him reach up to his temple, putting some of the honey blonde curls behind his ear, almost as if he was trying to figure out whether he should say something, or shouldn’t say something. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a few steps closer to Mickey, leaning against the counter as well.

 

“I just want to ask you for a favor” Mickey frowned in confusion, but didn’t say anything back, giving him the silent permission to go on. “Take care of Jayme for me, alright? I love Winnie, but together, they’ve always been…” Andrew trailed off for a short second, rubbing his bottom lip in between his thumb and index finger, trying to figure out how to continue. Mickey just stayed silent, waiting for it to make sense. “Destructive…” He settled on. “That’s how they got into all of that shit in the first place, yeah? Jayme’s always been a bit of a follower, she says ‘jump’, and he says ‘how high?’. It’s not something they realize - either of them - , but…” Drew explained before trailing off again.

 

“What - you - what, you think she’s gonna get him into that shit again?” Mickey frowned, hoping that his voice wasn’t too loud; honestly, Jayme’s drug addiction hadn’t been something he had been very worried about at all. For as long as he had known the guy, he had seemed incredibly content and stable, and secure in his recovery. Drew saying that he could be pushed into going back, that just kind of freaked Mickey out.

 

“I don’t think so” Drew shook his head. “Don’t think he’d be that stupid, and I hope she’s smarter since her time in prison, but just…” He trailed off for another second, looking at Mickey meaningfully. “Take care of him”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently so sick of this story. ahahaha, I don't know what to do. I do know what's supposed to happen and when and shit like that, though. So I'll finish it. I'm thinking 30-35 chapters, maybe.  
> Who's excited for angst? And who's excited for Ian? He won't be in more than a few chapters, but that whole thing will be epic, I assure you. So much shit is going to go down, fuck. I'm excited about that, I'm evil. 
> 
> Also, how are you guys doing? Are you having a good day, are you having a good week? Tell me down below.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, I love yous <3


	21. I Told You I Was Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t ever want you hurt, babe” He spoke lowly, his breath fanning Mickey’s. Suddenly, the air in the room had gone from slightly playful to serious - but not necessarily in a bad way.
> 
> “Me neither” Mickey mumbled back, his voice rough - not with sadness, but just… well, seriousness. If anything ever happened to Jayme, then… fuck.
> 
> “I’ll watch over you, you’ll watch over me” It was cheesy, cliché, and a little bit softer than anything either of them would ever really thirst for - but after everything they had been through, each of them could use someone to watch over them. So Mickey didn’t make a joke. He just nodded, easing his lips slightly closed to Jayme’s.
> 
> “Promise”

Some kind of soul music that Mickey didn’t quite recognize at all was playing, pouring out from the speakers on the sides of the large television; it wasn’t too loud, quiet enough that it didn’t overpower the voices of the people in the livingroom at all, but still quite obvious. He wasn’t sure how long they had all been sitting here - an hour, possibly, or maybe even two or three.

 

The table was littered with white takeout boxes, a couple of empty ones in front of Mickey and Drew, and one in front of Winnie. A barely touched one by Jayme; and several empty cans that had once held coke were spread out among them all as well.

 

Jayme and Winnie continued talking to each other, catching up laughing about one thing before moving on to the next, Drew adding a comment every now and then. Mickey was able to do so as well, despite not having been there for any of the things they visited on memory lane. Mostly he was just kind of on the sidelines - something he didn’t mind at all, actually - it was kind of nice to see Jayme so happy, just grinning and smiling.

 

Of course, Drew’s words had stirred something inside of his brain - made him a little bit worried - but he had decided not to spend any time on it. He would notice if anything was wrong, and until then, he trusted his boyfriend. He didn’t have any other choice the way that he saw it, nor did he feel the need to waste energy on something that may or may not happen.

 

The world outside of the large livingroom window was dark - pitch black, in fact - to the point where if Mickey was to look in that direction, all he would be able to see were their reflections. Inside, it was bright, though; the lamp on the side of the couch spreading that yellowish light, along with the ceiling lamp in the kitchen.

 

Soon, Mickey placed his hands flatly onto the black rug, pushing himself up to stand, walking towards the bedroom. He brought one of his hands up to his face, running his palm over his features as the sound of the thick accents grew somewhat more muffled along with the music. He walked through the dark bedroom, heading towards the bathroom.

 

A part of his mind was hung up on trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to start making money; he wanted to - he wanted to feel accomplished, he wanted to share this apartment with Jayme for real, he wanted to be able to take care of Yevgeny, and maybe Lana as well. He wanted to do all of those things, but he wouldn’t be able to unless he got a job.

 

The problem was the fact that he wasn't all that sure where to begin at all, actually. He didn’t have much of an education, nor was he good at a lot of things - well, he could do math, and he supposed he was possibly half-way decent when it came to drawing, but neither of those things would make him a lot of money in the near future - if ever.

 

For a minute too long, he was deep inside of his own brain, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to do this, but then he caught himself and did his best to shake it off - he could think about it tomorrow, or the day after. It was getting really fucking late now, and he was tired. There was no way in freezing cold hell he would be able to come up with a good and rational plan right this very second.

 

Mickey flushed, and then he headed back out of the bathroom towards the livingroom. The music grew a little bit clearer again as he got closer.

 

They had all moved a little bit from how they had first sat down a few hours ago; now Jayme was alone on the large couch, leaning against the armrest, kind of half-laying down as he laughed loudly, talking to Winnie. His back was facing the kitchen and the bedroom, his long arms folded and resting on his stomach, his feet planted onto the cushion, almost at the other end of the piece of furniture - fucking giant.

 

Winnie was in the soft chair, back facing the large window, her legs thrown over the edge of it, her feet just about touching the armrest of the couch as she sat facing Jayme, talking loudly, a few pieces of the brown hair escaping out from her ponytail, hanging down over her face while she moved around, gesturing.

 

Drew was just on the floor, leaning back against the television set with his phone in his hand, legs folded and feet planted onto the ground. Every once in a while he looked up, offering a comment of his own into the conversation, though for the most part he seemed to leave them both be. He brushed a few of the blond curly hairs out of his face, and Mickey moved his attention away from them all again, taking a few steps into the livingroom, starting to walk towards the spot next to Drew where he had been sitting previously.

 

Before he made it all that far, though, he felt something grasp the back of his shirt, and he frowned, turning around to look. Jayme was still placed on the couch, his teeth clamped around his bottom lip as he grinned up at Mickey, only half listening to whatever Winnie was saying at the moment. The large hand continued to tug at the dark fabric before Mickey was forced to give in, taking the steps over to the couch.

 

Mickey had to admit, he wasn’t the kind of person who was extremely comfortable with PDA - even if it was just like this, among friends. But he knew that Jayme was, and besides - it didn’t bother him now as much as it would have a few years ago; since he had come out, he had started to become a lot more comfortable with this kind of thing.

 

Once he was close enough, Jayme let go and wrapped his arm around his waist instead, pulling his boyfriend down onto the couch to sit close to him, pressing a simple and soft kiss to his neck, seeming to keep his nose there for a second, breathing him in before straightening his neck once again, his attention back on his best friend.

 

Mickey didn’t have any kind of choice but to admit to himself that he liked this - liked being this comfortable in their relationship. He and Jayme may have moved fast, and they weren’t anywhere near able to say that they were in love yet, but it still felt good, and being able to just hold each other in front of a couple of friends was proof enough that Mickey was in the right place for the moment being.

 

  
***

 

  
Yet another few hours after that, Drew and Winnie had for a moment considered just crashing on the couch, but quite quickly realized that Drew had clients early in the morning, and Winnie had something to do that Mickey hadn’t listened to. So they stood up, starting to head towards the front door of the apartment.

 

Mickey nodded goodbye to them, staying in the livingroom while Jayme followed them to the door; the brunet could hear their muffled talking - about school, or about tomorrow, he wasn’t listening quite all that much; instead, he started picking up the empty cans of soda - not to throw away, he couldn’t be bothered to do all of that right now. He just lazily picked up the ones that had fallen down onto the floor, and put them back up onto the table, figuring now was as good of a time as any.

 

Suddenly, he remembered something.

 

  
***

 

  
_“Mick!” Her voice rang through the house, and all Mickey did was roll his eyes, staying on his bed, not bothering to give her any kind of clue as to the fact that he had heard her voice. “You can hear me, asshole, get the fuck out here”_

 

_“Bitch, hold the fuck up. I’m coming” Mickey finally cracked, looking back down at the phone screen, unable to keep himself from grinning once more at Ian’s flirty words on the screen - hell, he was cheesy. It worked, though - it always fucking worked._

 

_After a beat, he put the phone down onto his bed and stood up, heading out towards the livingroom to see what the hell his sister seemed so upset about - it was rarely something that was worth it. Or something he had done, really. Maybe she was just really upset about some guy dumping her and she was taking it out on her brother - he was rarely all too sure._

 

_“The fuck’s the yapping about?” Mickey asked, his perfectly arched eyebrows raising while he looked out over the livingroom, seeing his sister in the middle of it, a large plastic bag in her hand as she threw beer can after beer can - along with the occasional bottle into it, obviously cleaning up._

 

_“You never fucking clean up after yourself, bro. Do you know how fucking long it takes for me to pick up your shit?” Mickey frowned - so? No one ever cleaned up after themselves in this house, it wasn’t exactly a new thing or some shit._

 

_“Well - would you calm down about it? I can do it” He wasn’t sure why he said that - picking up beer bottles? He could spend his time better, use it with Ian, or to watch some old horror movie and create more empty ones. But maybe he could see something in his sister’s eyes as she rushed around the livingroom, her dark locks of hair flying all over the place - she didn’t have tears in her eyes or anything, but he still got that feeling in his stomach. The one he got whenever he saw his little sister cry._

 

_Something was wrong._

 

  
***

 

  
Something had been wrong that day. In fact, that had only been around the time when he had discovered Kenyatta’s violent ways. But he had never asked. He had left her alone to clean up the house, only helping by putting one or two empty bottles into the bag. He hadn’t asked, hadn’t cared enough to sit her down and asked if she needed to talk.

 

That had never been their thing, though, of course. But looking back, he did wish he had just sat her down. Even if it had just been to watch some crappy ass rerun of south park and pour Jack into their vanilla ice cream.

 

Mickey was in the bedroom now, turned towards the headboard, eyes focused on it while his mind was elsewhere. His arms were crossed over his chest, his throat somehow thick as he thought about her, wondered where she was now - it was something that happened a lot. That guilt - whenever he thought about Ian, he could remember that Ian had also done a shit ton of things wrong, but Mandy? In Mickey’s mind, he had just failed her, wherever she was now.

 

Mickey swallowed, shaking his head to get rid of the stinging. He should have taken better care of her, fuck, he should have. But either way, there was nothing he could do about it right this second, so he tried his best to force himself to forget about it for the moment being; especially as he heard the front door close and as he turned around, he saw Jayme come towards him, that grin still stuck on his lips - it wasn’t as if it was an unusual thing, Jayme smiled quite a bit. But it was rare for him to keep it for hours without it faltering at all - Mickey liked seeing him happy, whether it was a rare thing or not.

 

“Sorry about that” He hummed to Mickey’s surprise as he wrapped his arms around his waist, tugging him close; Mickey frowned slightly, shaking his head as if to tell him not to worry about it. Then his hands fell onto his chest, toying slightly with the neckline of his shirt.

 

“Nah, it’s cool. I like her” Mickey assured Jayme, looking up at him. It was true - in a way, she seemed like a cool person. And he supposed it was true what his boyfriend had whispered in his ear earlier - it would take a while to love her, she had a loud and quite peculiar personality, but it wasn’t bad. “That dude she was talking about, though, what was he? Like fifty? That’s kind of fucked up” Relationships with a huge age difference kind of put a bad taste in Mickey’s mouth ever since that Ned douche, or whatever his name was. And it didn’t matter if it didn’t involve Mickey in any kind of way, he just found it - yeah, fucked up.

 

“She was joking about that” Jayme smiled. “… Kind of” Mickey snorted, nodding while his boyfriend pulled him even a little bit closer. “Why?” He raised an eyebrow then, and Mickey’s smile fell a little bit into a smirk, his own eyebrows raising as he started to recognize the tone in Jayme’s voice. “You got a problem with older men, huh?” Jayme’s grip tightened, and Mickey grinned again, getting up onto his toes, tugging some more at the neckline of the thin shirt as she shook his head.

 

“Hm, not fucking likely” Then they were on each other, Mickey’s lips latching onto Jayme’s, craving that feeling as he was pushed down onto the bed, his boyfriend climbing on top of him; clothes being spread out all over the room as they got lost in their own world again.

 

  
***

 

  
“Are you sure you know how to do this shit?” Mickey asked, slightly freaked out as he looked up at Jayme through the grey tinted, morning lit bedroom.

 

Everything was extremely quiet - in a good way - in the few days since Winnie had been released from prison, she and Drew had been over almost every single night - and sometimes during the day as well - watching movies, eating some take out, listening to music, talking - everything. It felt kind of good to be up early and have some time alone with Jayme, honestly - it did. And Mickey had a feeling, his boyfriend felt similarly.

 

He looked down at Mickey with raised eyebrows, almost as if to say ‘ _Are you fucking kidding me right now?_ ’

 

Jayme was sitting across Mickey’s naked hips, the thick, messy covers surrounding them in unmade lumps, the somewhat open window on the other side of the bed providing them with a slight breeze that Mickey wasn’t sure if he liked because of the fresh air or hated because of how cold it felt.

 

The large, tattoo covered hands were wrapped in a pair of white latex gloves, and he was holding onto a needle and also one of those scissor like clamps that they had in piercing and tattoo studios; for a short moment, Mickey was still, just looking up at his face. How the small lips were pulled up into that smile, and how the blue hair was for once not tied up at all, and just kind of fell all over the place; fuck, he was beautiful.

 

“Drew gave me a crash course a couple of summers ago, mate, I told you. Why do you think I have these things anyway? Open” Mickey’s tongue darted out of his mouth for a short second, swiping across his lips before he put it back in, waiting a moment. Then he rolled his eyes, doing his best not to smile as he stuck his tongue out, Jayme looking focused as he used the clamp, his thin eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

 

Mickey continued looking up at him, his hands laying on his thighs, loving how the soft but slightly hairy shaded skin felt underneath his palms. Of course, he did his best not to focus on how if he used both of his hands, he could very easily wrap them all around his leg - but Jayme said he had that shit under control, and Mickey chose to trust him on it until he had a real reason not to do so.

 

Jayme licked his lips, looking up from Mickey’s tongue, hazel eyes on blue.

 

“Ready?” He asked, and the brunet just hummed way back in his throat as he didn’t have a way to speak at the moment; Jayme moved his attention back to the clamp, holding it still as he brought the long needle to the underside of his boyfriend’s tongue, pushing it through.

 

Mickey’s eyebrows moved for a moment, a slight reaction to the pinching pain before it went away, and he could see the long steel needle right in front of his face. The older man smiled for a moment before reaching to the side to get the jewelry, expertly pushing the needle out, replacing it with the barbell.

 

Jayme’s face was incredibly close to Mickey’s as he screwed the ball on, his face still stuck in that serious, concentrated look, his lips slightly parted. Mickey kept his tongue out, waiting patiently, appreciating the view; once in a while, he would somehow randomly end up doing this - end up staring at him. It wasn’t really all that much of a conscious thing. But hell, if he wasn’t the most gorgeous guy Mickey had ever laid eyes on.

 

“Alright, done” Jayme said, his teeth exposed in a large smile as he let go, straightening up. Though not much more than a split second passed before Mickey chased after his lips, capturing them in between his own, unable to help it, unable to keep from craving it.

 

He could feel his boyfriend’s slight chuckle far down in his throat, along with the movements and the sound of him taking the gloves off before then giving into it, deepening the kiss, his arms lacing around Mickey’s neck, his tongue sliding over his, a few of the blue strands of hair falling into the younger man’s face. This felt so fucking good; it had ever since the first moment they had kissed, honestly - Mickey couldn’t ever remember a time when their lips had met, and everything in his world hadn’t made complete sense all of a sudden.

 

He brought his left hand up to wrap around Jayme’s waist, wrestling him over to that he was on top of him, the skinny, tattoo covered legs wrapping around his body. The thick covers still collected all around them as they continued making out, their hands running all over each other’s bodies, keeping them warm despite the slight breeze still coming in through the window.

 

Jayme kept one of his large hands at the back of Mickey’s head, tugging slightly at the dark strands as their tongues massaged each other’s, his other one sliding down his body, feeling the warm skin underneath his palm. Mickey felt his hand grasp his ass, and he hummed, rolling his hips, their cocks sliding together as the kiss deepened even a little bit more, his eyebrows furrowed with want.

 

Soon, Mickey broke the kiss though, burying his face in Jayme’s neck instead, breathing him in as he attached his lips to the tattooed skin, nibbling a little bit, his warm tongue moving in small circles, dragging those dark, perfect sounds out of his boyfriend’s throat and causing his fingers to dig into the flesh of his ass a little bit harder, the older man pushing him down, pushing them against each other, trying to get some kind of relief as his cock only seemed to be growing harder with each second of having Mickey on top of himself.

 

Mickey’s hands held onto Jayme’s hips, his teeth scratching his skin slightly while he continued to create the hickey that would surely be visible in a little while, enjoying the moment, his cock leaking small droplets of precome in between their stomachs.

 

“What’s that scar?”

 

“What?” Mickey lifted his head to look into the hazel eyes, his lips swollen as he wondered why the hell Jayme had interrupted them. He seemed to shrug, looking down towards Mickey’s ass, and then back to him, his eyebrows slightly raised in question.

 

“I’m sorry” Jayme mumbled. “Just saw it a couple times, figured I shouldn’t ask, but… “ He frowned slightly then, and Mickey did the same - it didn’t bother him to talk about that as much as it bothered him to talk about certain other things in his past, honestly. His grip loosened slightly around the skinny hips, and he looked down at Jayme.

 

“Got shot - couple times, once in my leg, too - hurt like a bitch” The frown on his boyfriend’s face grew even a little bit deeper at the information, and for a moment, he was still and quiet. Then he lifted his head the few inches off the pillow, burying his face in the curve of Mickey’s jawline, his nose smashed against his skin, breathing in once. Mickey grinned, tilting his head slightly, trying to keep from chuckling. “The fuck, man?”

 

“Just fucking sucks to think about” He spoke against the warm skin before pressing another kiss to the area, the blue eyes falling closed for a second before Jayme let his head fall down once again, the two of them looking as each other. “Someone shot you” Mickey hummed. “You’re my Mickey, don’t want anyone to hurt you” At that, Mickey couldn’t help but grin; it sounded so fucking good - those words coming out of his mouth. Jesus fucking christ -

 

He grabbed both of Jayme’s hands, pinning them to the pillow beside their heads, attaching his mouth to his once again, their lips moving together, bodies leaning into one another, tongues massaging each other, that one special and irreplaceable warm feeling racing all throughout their veins. Some saliva became spread out around their mouths before Mickey broke it again, a small whine sounding in the base of Jayme’s throat as he chased after his lips for a split second before relaxing again.

 

“Yours?” Mickey asked, biting his bottom lip, their noses resting against each other, lips hovering inches apart. They had said it before - the whole ‘ _I’m yours, you’re mine_ ’ thing, but that didn’t mean that Mickey didn’t fucking love hearing it - or even just thinking about it. The fact that this ridiculous, tattoo covered asshole was his. His boyfriend - his… his best friend.

 

Jayme just hummed, nodding.

 

“Don’t ever want you hurt, babe” He spoke lowly, his breath fanning Mickey’s. Suddenly, the air in the room had gone from slightly playful to serious - but not necessarily in a bad way.

 

“Me neither” Mickey mumbled back, his voice rough - not with sadness, but just… well, seriousness. If anything ever happened to Jayme, then… fuck.

 

“I’ll watch over you, you’ll watch over me” It was cheesy, cliché, and a little bit softer than anything either of them would ever really thirst for - but after everything they had been through, each of them could use someone to watch over them. So Mickey didn’t make a joke. He just nodded, easing his lips slightly closed to Jayme’s.

 

“Promise” Jayme grinned, attacking Mickey’s lips once again, the air becoming lighter as they leaned into each other, teeth nipping at each other’s lips, their hands wandering over each other’s bodies, their minds growing blank and free of anything but this - them.

 

Mickey thought that maybe he moaned when Jayme wrapped his long ass legs around his body, pressing him closer, but his boyfriend swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss even a little bit more, his hands going back to squeezing his ass, their cocks rubbing against each other. They could feel each other’s piercings on their lips and tongues, and Jayme broke the wet makeout session, grinning up at Mickey.

 

“Your tongue’s gonna swell really bad, so you might want to use that thing before it does, hm?” It took half a second before Mickey’s brain caught up with what his boyfriend was hinting at, but once he was right there with him, he chuckled, pressing one more searing kiss to his lips.

 

Then he eased down the bed, their eyes connected while he wrapped his pink lips around Jayme’s large cock, immediately hollowing his cheeks and starting to blow him in a way that had him writhing and coming within a short few minutes.

 

  
***

 

  
On a late afternoon a day later - or maybe it was two or three - Mickey was still out looking for a job - which was also an excuse for him taking the opportunity to grab a smoke and maybe a beer, Jayme knew this by now. Not that it bothered him, he would never force Mickey to quit that, he knew that he used to do it a lot more. It was just hard to have it inside of the apartment, he didn’t give much of a shit what his boyfriend did outside of it at all.

 

Anyway - since Jayme was finished with all of his classes for that day, that left him alone in the apartment - save for Winnie. Since she had gotten out, she was there just about every single day - if not almost every since moment - it had just really sucked being able to see each other a maximum of a few times a week. So now they took any chance they could get, just about at least.

 

“That bloke, though?” Winnie asked her best friend as Jayme walked back towards the couch, a couple of root beers in his hand; he handed one to her as she continued to talk, the two of them sitting down on opposite ends of the couch, feet slipped in between each other’s. “The one you were with when I got thrown in, the hell happened to him?”

 

“Fuck knows where he is” Jayme laughed. “He cheated, remember?” It hadn’t hurt him that bad - or even at all, really - they had barely been together for two months - less time than he had been with Mickey at this point, even. He leaned back against the armrest of the couch, the muted television admitting that flickering light, the slight soul music that Winnie had put on playing somewhat lowly for the moment being.

 

For a moment, Jayme was completely calm, at peace. He brought his hands up to his hair, collecting the short blue strands up into that small bun on top of his head, tying the skinny black hairtie around, hoping that it wouldn’t end up falling down. Then, the second after that, a very familiar clicking sound registered in his brain, along with an even more familiar smell.

 

Jayme frowned, looking up at Winnie as she put her lips around the cigarette, inhaling, the light smoke slowly spreading around her.

 

“Win, don’t fucking smoke in here, alright? You know I’m off the stuff” He hated to sound like a whining old lady or whatever, but it was the truth - it wasn’t as if if he was around it, or somehow got it into his system, then he would immediately go back to where he was, but still. It felt kind of stupid to risk it.

 

“Jaym, it’s just a cigarette, you’re acting like it’s H or some shit, yeah? Chill out” Jayme frowned, looking into her eyes, just about immediately realizing why she wasn’t as accepting of his recovery as she had been back when he had been visiting her - it was because she was already high. How the fuck hadn’t he smelled it the second she had walked in? “I’m off the hard stuff, too, you know? But it’s just a smoke - you want some?”

 

The smell continued to fill Jayme’s nose, and before he could even make a conscious decision to, he felt himself reaching out. He was doing a good job keeping off of the hard drugs, and the alcohol. It was just a cigarette - it could barely be called a drug - so what was the fucking harm anyway?

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey walked home that night, knowing that he had to go to work in the morning. That actually felt really fucking good - knowing that he was doing something, earning something. Doing illegal shit had been a lot easier, but it would suck to get thrown back in again, and quite frankly, he didn’t feel like risking that. At least not at this particular point in his life.

 

Construction wasn’t at all something he had considered in the past - or even something he was sure he would be very good at, but it was a job. It would end up earning him some money, and from what a few of the guys had had time to show him today, it didn’t seem terribly complicated. His brothers had worked with that stuff a few times in the past - for probation and shit - Mickey was sure he would be alright at it, at least. And it wouldn’t be forever - just for a few months until he could figure out what he should actually be doing - what he wanted to be doing with his life. If he would ever actually be able to figure that out, that was.

 

Either way, as Mickey walked back towards the apartment, he felt good. Better than he had in a while. Little did he know, that as he was getting his life together, his boyfriend was unknowingly fucking his own up yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Someone to watch over me' Is going to be a Jickey quote as we move on, just heads up lol. It's going to be a big thing. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope that you still like this story, it's definitely something that I've been insecure about in the past, because it is such a different thing from just writing Ian and Mickey, but I appreciate you guys so much for sticking with it. Truly, I can't even express it. And get ready for some more angst haha 
> 
> I love yous so much <3 <3 <3 
> 
> (Also, I changed my tumblr url from anothergallavichlove to milkozude. Just clearing that up, because I've tried to make it clear, but some people still seem confused? So yeah. Anyway, just figured I would make that extra crystal clear.)


	22. Losing Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is he nice?” Ian wasn’t sure why he even gave a shit - he didn’t want Mickey. But the questions came out of his mouth anyway, and he didn’t know why.
> 
> “Very kind from what I can tell” Svetlana nodded. She couldn’t deny that - from the little amount of time she had spent in the same room as Mickey’s new boyfriend, that was the energy she had gotten from him.
> 
> Ian sighed at the information, lifting the glass of ‘alcohol’ back up to his lips while he shook his head slightly, deciding to shut his mouth again, forcing down whatever uncomfortable feeling was beginning to settle in his chest against his will.

Mickey scratched his temple, thick eyebrows somewhat drawn together as he measured, figuring out exactly which way he needed to saw to make everything come together the way that it should. In the first few days, it had taken some adjusting for him to get used to working at a construction site, but now he had been here for a little over a week - almost two - and it wasn’t at all complicated anymore. It was a lot of math, and a lot of physical work - none of which he was particularly bad at, he was noticing.

 

Some more of his coworkers were littered around, but he was working alone for the moment being. Sawing and measuring while the majority of the others were actually working on putting things together.

 

It wasn’t as if Mickey wanted to do this shit for the rest of his life - it would be cool to figure something better out. To find something he was actually passionate about, rather than something he just did because he needed the money - but for the moment being, as long as he wore clothes that were warm enough to shield him from the slight chill in the air, he didn’t mind it. He could work to himself, and the hours weren’t completely terrible, surprisingly enough.

 

Right as he was in the middle of scribbling a few numbers down on a piece of paper, he noticed a buzzing in the pocket of his pants, and he finished up writing the six and the eight with the pencil before putting it down and reaching for his phone, pressing the small button to make the screen light up.

 

Jay: _I miss you_

 

Mickey licked his dry lips, fighting a smile as he quickly typed his response.

 

Mickey: _Thought you had homework or some shit to do_

 

Jay: _I’m stuck_

 

The answer came less than a minute after Mickey had sent his message, and he dug his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip, beginning to feel the wind bite at his cheeks just a tiny bit as another text came through from his boyfriend.

 

Jay: _Also we’re out of coffee_

 

Jayme and his fucking coffee, Mickey swore to god.

 

Mickey: _I’ll get some on my way back_

 

Mickey: _Couple hours maybe_

 

Jay: _Thank youu_

 

After that message, Mickey quickly got yet another one. It was just a red heart emoji, and he had to fight a smile once again, hesitating for a short moment before shrugged, sending one back.

 

  
***

 

  
A little bit over two hours later, Mickey was heading back towards the apartment, the darkness slowly but surely beginning to fall over the town; it wasn’t black yet, but the air around him was grey, a couple of the streetlights beginning to flicker to life, helping people find their way through the streets.

 

His hand was wrapped around a large cup of coffee, another one perched on top of it. The warmth was seeping through the cardboard material, warming his palm just enough to keep him from shaking; it was as if the later it got, the colder it got, but it wasn’t all too terrible. The weather seemed to shift quite a bit, despite the fact that they were heading towards the winter rather than away from it.

 

This was nothing Mickey found a reason to complain about of course, though - being that he spent so much time outdoors as he did, it was only beneficial for him if he didn’t have to freeze his fucking ass off at work.

 

Mickey’s boots scraped against the pavement as he walked, and he thought that maybe he heard the sound of a dog barking roughly in the distance, another streetlight lighting up while he passed it; he breathed out, seeing his warm air blending together with the cold, creating some shapes that danced in front of his face for a short moment. The view reminded him of the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket, and he reached for it, placing one of the smokes in between his lips and lighting it up, breathing the drug in and feeling it enter his lungs, warming him up from the inside out as he walked.

 

A few minutes after that, Mickey reached the large entrance doors to the brick building, but he stopped, deciding to finish the cigarette up while he stared out over the darkening street.

 

This had taken some getting used to, honestly - the whole no smoking inside shit, or no smoking around Jayme. It wasn’t as if he hid it - like hell he was changing his habits completely just because of his boyfriend - Jayme was well aware of the fact that Mickey smoked - and drank once in a while, though that was more difficult to do on the go or whatever - and from Mickey had noticed, nor did he mind. But it was just weird - for the longest time, Mickey hadn’t even thought about it when he grabbed a cigarette and lit it, it just happened.

 

Now he just kind of had to stop and think about it, which had inevitably caused him to cut down since he was around Jayme quite a bit - though none of that was necessarily a bad thing.

 

By the time that Mickey had finished the cigarette up - or almost finished it, at the very least - the air around him was just about completely black, and he dropped the smoke down onto the ground, stepping on it before he turned around, pushing his way into the building, his steps echoing through the dark stairwell while he took the steps two by two, soon reaching the familiar door, walking inside.

 

_“…to square, not being there. But I think that I should have been…”_ The sound of Jayme’s dark voice singing the words to the somewhat familiar song immediately reached Mickey’s ears along with the warm, lit and welcoming apartment. The whole thing caused Mickey to just smile - it was a pretty fucking good feeling to come home to, honestly - all of it. _“Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes. Hold back the river, so I… can stop for a minute and see where you hide. Hold back the river, hold back…”_

 

Jayme was playing the guitar as well, his voice almost just humming the words - not unclearly, but the pitch of his voice and the way he pronounced things when he sang just made it seem that way, and something turned in Mickey’s stomach. He just really fucking liked hearing Jayme playing music, he couldn’t explain it. Though, he didn’t do it a lot, and Mickey had to admit that he’d love hearing it more often.

 

Mickey toed his shoes off of his feet, kicking them to the side, causing them to roll over the large black combat boots that stood up against the wall; then he took his thick jacket off, though struggling being that he only had one hand free. Finally, he hung the clothing piece up on one of the hooks, not bothering to take his boyfriend’s beanie off of his head - he was still fucking cold.

 

The strumming of the guitar and the low singing continued, growing clearer once Mickey actually rounded the wall that separated the hall from the rest of the yellow-lit apartment. He leaned his shoulder against the edge of the wall, lifting one of the cups of coffee up to his lips as he watched, listening to the music. Taking in the way that Jayme’s dark voice hugged the words.

 

_“…can stop for a minute and be at your side. Hold back the river, hold back… Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes. Hold back the river, so I… can stop for a minute and see where you hide. Hold back the river, hold back…”_

 

Mickey smiled - not just at the sound, but at the way that Jayme had his eyes closed, just singing. Not really paying attention to anything else; once, Mickey remembered asking him if he would ever actually like to do this - like sing, and actually be a singer. Get paid for it and shit, but Jayme had answered that it would just end up taking the fun out of it all - it made sense, he supposed. But fuck, he could if he wanted to.

 

Music had never been Mickey’s thing - not to listen to and certainly not to fucking do himself, though he on several occasions had wished he could - the only shit he listened to growing up was Iggy’s metallica and other stuff like that, but even though Mickey would never think to put on softer music himself, he liked hearing Jayme play it - sometimes he could even feel some kind of pleasant feeling in his spine, which sounded fucked up. But it just sounded that good - not to mention that he knew that he was one of the few people who Jayme didn’t mind singing in front of.

 

It didn’t take many more seconds before Jayme finished the song, and he ran his fingers over the strings a finale time before wrapping his large hand around the neck, turning to the right, his legs swung over the right side of the chair while he looked at Mickey, smiling before placing the instrument down on the floor.

 

“Hey” Mickey nodded back at him, walking towards him and placing the large cup of black coffee down onto the table, somehow managing to find a naked spot among all of the papers, pens and open books. He kept the medium sized cup for himself, looking down at the half-assed math equations. “You’re still stuck on this shit?”

 

Jayme hummed as a yes, his arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist, for once shorter than him as he was sitting down. Mickey was tugged a little bit closer to his side, both of their eyes focused on the mess of numbers, letters and equality signs. Maybe Mickey would have been able to understand some of it, if it wasn’t for the complete chaos of shit that his boyfriend had created.

 

“Why do you have to do this anyway? Aren’t you studying photography or something?” Mickey recalled Jayme mentioning it once in a while. He reached forwards with his free hand, beginning to sort through some of the single sheets of papers, and the open books, his boyfriend’s large hand slipping underneath his shirt, his fingers rubbing smooth circles on his skin comfortably, warming him up. Mickey licked his dry lips, a part of him enjoying the touch, another one trying to figure out what exactly Jayme was working on.

 

“Photography’s the main thing, but I still have to take math.”

 

This shit was advanced being that Jayme was in college - and a good few years older than Mickey, on top of that - but math had been one of the few things that Mickey hadn’t exactly been terrible at growing up. In fact, he had been fairly skilled in that class. And the longer he looked at these equations, the longer he started to see some kind of a pattern, beginning to catch on.

 

“I don’t fucking understand any of this, I never did” Jayme complained, watching Mickey continue to read, sorting through the papers. “Like this is maths? There’s letters in it” Mickey snorted.

  
 “It’s algebra”

 

“The fuck is algebra?” Jayme’s voice was even deeper than usual, sounding bored and frustrated as all fucking hell. Okay, maybe he was acting as if he was a little bit more stupid than he actually was - algebra was a thing, he knew this. That didn’t change the fact that this was way more difficult than anything he would ever be able to understand in terms of math; fucking stupid, who would ever even use this in their lifetime?

 

Jayme had to unwrap his arm from around Mickey’s waist when Mickey pulled one of the free chairs closer to sit down, looking even closer at the papers to see if he could understand any of this better than his boyfriend did. His hand grasped the pencil that laid abandoned next to his boyfriend’s glass of water, and he pointed to the X.

 

“Nah, look. Jay, this is easy - you just have to find what this equals in terms of…” Mickey’s words trailed off just as quickly as he had begun talking; it was obvious that his boyfriend wasn’t listening anyway as his lips were suddenly attached to the skin of Mickey’s neck, right below his jawline. Mickey rolled his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his own bottom lip, he could almost feel himself on the verge of getting goosebumps, because he was really fucking talented at this shit. “You don’t want to figure this shit out?” Mickey asked, looking down at the papers in front of him, his grip loosening around the pen as Jayme continued kissing his neck, sucking just slightly, causing his boyfriend to swallow.

 

“No” Jayme murmured against his skin. “I’m bored” Fuck - he was like a little kid. But not in a creepy way, or anything, just - Mickey shook his head, shedding the thoughts as Jayme placed his hand over his boyfriend’s, picking the pencil out of his fingers and putting it aside, sliding some of the books away from them both. Mickey grinned, his eyes falling closed for a moment or two, his hand lifting up to cup the back of Jayme’s neck, his own tilting to the side to give him more space to nibble, surely creating a hickey that would end up staying for at least a day or two.

 

Mickey pushed the papers even further away from them before fully wrapping his hand in the blue strands of hair, tugging at them as he felt his boyfriend’s teeth scratch over the sensitive area, his warm tongue sliding over the pale skin.

 

One of Jayme’s large hands were on Mickey’s shoulder, and soon Mickey felt the other one slide over his clothed chest for a moment before landing in his crotch, pressing lightly, rubbing him through his jeans. Mickey licked his lips, eyes completely falling closed while he grew, breathing becoming slightly heavier lips parted.

 

“Want to suck you off” Jayme’s hot breath hit Mickey’s skin, and Mickey hummed, tugging harder at the blue hair to tug his head up from his neck, crashing their lips together. At first it was incredibly sloppy, being that Jayme couldn’t stop grinning to save his fucking life - it happened a lot, the two of them having a hard time kissing because they were just too happy that they could. Fucked up, maybe - but Mickey never seemed to grow tired of touching Jayme, or being touched by him. He was a tall ass fucking blue haired, tattoo covered nerd, and he was all his.

 

Mickey deepened the kiss, pressing himself closer to the other man as he added some more pressure to Mickey’s cock, rubbing him, feeling him grow beneath his touch.

 

“Fuck, man” Mickey sighed into his mouth, and Jayme chuckled, pressing one more kiss to his lips - or maybe it was two - before he let go of him, sinking down onto the floor, knees against the cement. Mickey pushed his chair out, making room, spreading his legs to welcome Jayme in between them as all four hands desperately started working on getting Mickey’s zipper open.

 

Once they finally got it, Jayme pushed Mickey’s jeans down a little bit past his knees, grinning up at him. Mickey wasn’t sure how the fuck he could look so cute in the dirtiest position possible - like his eyes were shining or some shit, his perfect teeth exposed. But fuck, if he didn’t look sexy as all hell, too.

 

Mickey licked his lips, unable to keep from running his hands through the strands of damaged hair on top of his boyfriend head while he spread his legs further, Jayme shifting his attention down to his bulge, tugging his boxers down at well, Mickey sighing when his erection was released, free of the pressure of clothing, Jayme’s breath immediately fanning the skin.

 

Their eyes connected when Jayme looked up again, his smile faltering a little bit, only so that he could lick his lips, wrapping one of his large hands around Mickey’s length. Mickey sighed at the touch; the perfect amount of pressure and the warmth of his boyfriend’s hand along with the slight chill of the many, many rings that were placed all over his fingers.

 

Jayme stroked him a few times, getting him even harder; fuck, he knew his way around this shit. Mickey couldn’t remember a single time that his boyfriend had touched him and it hadn’t ended in a completely mindblowing orgasm - he wasn’t sure if that was Jayme’s skills, or just the fact that it was Jayme. But maybe he could guess that it was just very much of both, actually.

 

A few more strokes, and then Jayme positioned his hand at the base of Mickey’s cock, opening his mouth, the eye contact keeping as he begun blowing him, at first just focusing on the tip, still teasing him slightly. Mickey couldn’t help but lick his lips again while he stared into the hazel eyes, his mouth was becoming dry at the sight, and at the feeling of the perfect, warm mouth wrapped around him; fuck.

 

Jayme pulled off again, giving the length another few tugs before going back, this time swallowing down even more, gradually working until he was able to take half of Mickey’s cock into his throat, and then two thirds, expertly forcing himself to pleasure his boyfriend.

 

“Holy fucking shit” Mickey couldn’t help but curse, teeth digging into his bottom lip, legs starting to shake just a tiny bit as he watched Jayme slide his mouth up and down his cock, now deep throating on almost every third bob of his head, his tongue moving across the slit to collect the few drops of precome whenever he got the chance. “You look so fucking good, Jay; jesus christ”

 

Jayme’s free hand slid underneath his boyfriend’s shirt, curling around the side of Mickey’s waist as he felt his grip tighten on the blue hair, forcing him to slow down a little bit. Mickey licked his lips, staring into the hazel eyes for another beat before his gaze flickered down to his mouth, the way that the thin lips were stretched around his cock, moving slower and slower, giving him the chance to see the saliva and the precome just collecting around his mouth where they were connected, his cock sliding in and out of his throat.

 

Mickey licked his lips once again, starting to feel his orgasm begin to build when he eased his grip on the blue hair, and Jayme somehow grinned around his cock - or did the version of it that he was able to - his cheeks hollowing while he sped up, focusing on sucking his boyfriend’s brain out through his cock, his fingertips moving in soft circles over his skin.

 

Mickey finally had to close his eyes, his neck tilting backwards, hips subconsciously beginning to twitch upwards, shoving his cock down into Jayme’s throat as he grew closer and closer. Jayme followed his movements until finally they both froze, Jayme’s nose buried in the small amount of pubic hair at the base of Mickey’s cock as his mouth was filled with the warm, salty come.

 

Mickey’s hand continued to tug at his hair, and Jayme blinked up, watching that vein in his neck, his eyes shut as he moaned out his boyfriend’s name - a sound that Jayme could never see himself growing tired of. It sounded so fucking good coming out of Mickey’s mouth, especially in a moment like this one. Or a soft one - Jayme liked the soft moments, too.

 

Finally, Mickey begun calming down, his eyes opening. Jayme pulled his mouth off of his cock, making sure to leave as little come as he could before he stood up, keeping it in his mouth while he walked over to the kitchen, spitting it out into the sink - sometimes he swallowed, sometimes he didn’t; they were both like that, it wasn’t weird at all. Then he cleaned his mouth out with some water and turned around, walking back towards the table where Mickey was busy zipping his jeans back up.

 

“You’re fucking good at that, man. You know that?” Mickey had that one smile on his face - the one that didn’t look forced, or awkward, or necessarily overly ecstatic - just happy. Like he didn’t have any kind of control over it, like he had just had his mind blown. More than his mind, actually - but that was besides the point.

 

That one smile of Mickey’s would never cease to make Jayme’s stomach do that weird flip thing. He smiled back at Mickey, unable to stop himself from climbing into his lap to slot their lips together in another few wet but sweet, appreciating kisses.

 

  
***

 

  
“So what is he like?” Ian’s hand was lazily wrapped around a glass of whiskey - actually, it was ice tea, because he couldn’t do shit on these meds, but he was pretending. He looked at Svetlana where she stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter.

 

“He’s tall” She said. “Handsome. Lots of tattoos” Ian rolled his eyes, unsure if he wanted to hear - or should want to hear - more about this apparent new boyfriend that Mickey had found himself. That had all gone down very fast, in his opinion. Maybe it was just a rebound thing - it would make sense. That’s what Caleb had been, he had realized by now.

 

“Is he nice?” Ian wasn’t sure why he even gave a shit - he didn’t want Mickey. But the questions came out of his mouth anyway, and he didn’t know why.

 

“Very kind from what I can tell” Svetlana nodded. She couldn’t deny that - from the little amount of time she had spent in the same room as Mickey’s new boyfriend, that was the energy she had gotten from him.

 

Ian sighed at the information, lifting the glass of ‘alcohol’ back up to his lips while he shook his head slightly, deciding to shut his mouth again, forcing down whatever uncomfortable feeling was beginning to settle in his chest against his will.

 

  
***

 

  
That one, unmistakable blue, flickering light was once again spread out all over the dark livingroom as Mickey laid on the couch, Jayme on top of him. They had been making out a while ago, but they had given up on that by now, both of them becoming tired, the clock ticking closer and closer to two and three am.

 

A half empty pizza box was laying on the coffee table, only three pieces remaining of the previous eight. Mickey had had four.

 

Their stomachs were pressed together, Jayme’s cheek against Mickey’s sternum, the blue hairs on top of his head tickling his nose. Mickey’s arm was bent slightly at the elbow, resting on the back of the couch while his palm was in his boyfriend’s hair, fingers absentmindedly brushing through the rough, but somehow soft strands, the two of them wrapped up in their own bubble somehow. Tired - exhausted when it came to a lot of things in their lives - but happy.

 

Jayme could feel Mickey’s heart beating against his own chest, in pace with his, only a few thin layers of clothing separating them; it calmed him down as he watched the television through the thin slits of his eyes that he had enough energy to keep open. The fingers sorting through his hair caused tingles to run down his spine every now and then, if only because he knew that it was Mickey’s touch.

 

Mickey followed the late night cartoon that was for some reason showing in the middle of the night, his eyelids heavy; his free arm wrapped around Jayme’s shoulders, holding him close. He could feel the calm, warm breaths on his neck, the slight sound of them growing heavier by the minute. Fuck - he could stay like this forever.

 

Alas - Mickey sighed, running his fingers through the blue hair one last time before stopping at the back of Jayme’s neck, looking down at him while he pressed his lips to his temple. Maybe he wanted to stay here forever, but it wasn’t possible.

 

“Jay, we can’t fall asleep on the couch again. Got shit to do in the morning, gotta sleep in a bed” Jayme did nothing but groan at the statement, wrapping his long ass arms all the way around Mickey’s body to tug himself even closer, pressing his nose deep into the crook of the younger man’s neck, causing his boyfriend to grin, unable to keep from tightening his hold on him right back.

 

“I’m comfortable” Jayme’s deep voice murmured against Mickey’s soft skin, pressing a soft kiss to it before relaxing again, seeming to decide to fall asleep.

 

“Me too” Mickey promised, tugging Jayme even closer, burying his nose and mouth into the hair, breathing him in, something inside of him relaxing. “But you sleep like a fucking log, and you’re too long to carry” He murmured lowly, causing a tired and muffled groan to come out of Jayme’s throat.

 

“You’re mean” Mickey snorted, tightening his hold, beginning to move his fingers through his hair again, just enjoying this moment for a minute longer. In the livingroom in the middle of the night, his boyfriend pressed close to him - it honestly couldn’t get all that much better.

 

“Maybe so” Mickey sighed in response, and Jayme lifted his head up, leaning his chin on Mickey’s chest, blue eyes connecting with hazel, faces close together. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Jayme just looked at Mickey, and Mickey looked right back.

 

Jayme thought that maybe he could feel his heart stop when he looked into those eyes. Their relationship was a mess, and he was sure that there were things he didn’t know about Mickey, things Mickey didn’t know about him. But, fuck - he was beautiful. Not just on the outside.

 

Mickey parted his lips even before Jayme pressed his own to them, knowing what was coming. Their eyes slipped closed, the kiss remaining sweet and somewhat chaste - simple. Mickey ran his fingers through his hair, feeling Jayme’s hand sort through the shorter black hair at the back of his own neck for a moment before they parted again, Jayme dropping one last, quick peck to his lips. Mickey grinned up at him, and then Jayme finally forced himself to stand up on tired legs, walking into the bedroom.

 

Once he reached the bathroom, he pulled the blue hair up into a small bun on top of his head, and he brushed his teeth quickly, hurrying to make sure that he could climb into bed with Mickey as fast as possible, his head even beginning to ache slightly with the lack of sleep. The sound of the brush rushing over his teeth filled his ears for a second, his eyes staring down into the white sink bowl, his mind drifting to random places for a second until;

 

“Oh, fuck” Jayme cursed dropping the toothbrush against the porcelain.

 

“You alright, man?” Mickey asked from the bedroom, and Jayme called back, assuring him that he was before frowning, reaching a couple of his fingers into his mouth, touching at the part of his teeth that had suddenly begun to hurt so fucking badly.

 

Soon, he was staring down into his open palm, half a tooth resting on the pale skin.

 

  
***

 

  
_Jayme’s old, torn up chucks walked over the gravel, the small rocks crunching beneath his feet. Somewhere in the distance, he thought that maybe he could hear a few birds singing, a tractor backfiring. The large black hoodie that he had once upon a time stolen from his father was draped over his tall frame, his long arms hanging by his sides._

 

_The air was a lot colder today than it typically was - which didn’t necessarily equal cold, this was still Australia - just more so than usual._

 

_A few more steps, and Jayme rested his shoulder against the opening of the garage, looking. A couple of the dark brown hairs fell into his own face, and he brushed them away, for a moment considering a haircut. Then he just continued looking at him, appreciating the sight of him finally being home again._

 

_“You’re going fishing?” Jayme asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The older man nodded, continuing to look down at the equipment that was laid out over the small, gangly table in front of him, a grunt sounding in the base of his throat._

 

_“Figured I should get something out of today, no?” He asked, a small smile covering his lips as he looked up at Jayme for a short moment, then he looked back down. Jayme felt some kind of breeze brush over his back, and he took a few steps further into the garage._

 

_“When was the last time we went?” He asked. He smiled as he spoke, remembering, and his father chuckled deeply once, running a hand over his head, seeming to think something over before going back to collecting his things together._

 

_“I reckon it was somewhere around the time when you and your brother had a lot more freckles than teeth, yeah?” Jayme laughed, enjoying the sound of his voice way too much. It had been too long; too many months without it, too much worry about whether or not he would ever get to hear it again. He brushed a few of the dark strands of hair behind his own ear once again, licking his lips. “Dad, I’m sorry. About yesterday”_

 

_They both looked up at the same time, and Jayme could see that look in his eyes. The one that his mother could never match - the one that nobody could ever match. The one that said ‘even when you disappoint me, I still love you with all of my heart’. Jayme had only seen it from him. Ever._

 

_His father grunted, nodding._

 

_“Just don’t let it happen again. Your mother was upset” Jayme nodded._

 

_“I won’t” In a way, he supposed that things could get a lot worse than his mother just happening to find a joint in the glove compartment of his car - but though his parents weren’t strict at all, any kind of drugs were the one thing that wouldn’t be tolerated, he knew this all too well, actually. Which was why he had been sneaking around with the stuff, but it was overwith. Getting high wasn’t worth disappointing his parents, especially not his father._

 

_With how little he was home in any case, that was the last thing Jayme wanted to do._

 

_One of their horses neighed in the distance, and Jayme swallowed, watching the way that his father worked at getting the line ready to go fishing. He had never been talented with any of this stuff, even when he had tried to teach him. He wished that he was, wished that he was tough and wise like his father._

 

_“You, um…” Jayme frowned at the sound of his voice, looking back up. “You’re a really good kid, Jay. You’re about to turn seventeen, you know better than this. I know you don’t see this as a big deal right now, I just don’t want you to get wrapped up in something you can’t get out of, you know?”_

 

_“I’ve tried to stop” Jayme found himself stating honestly. It wasn’t as if it was an addiction - but it was just all around. His friends were doing it, his friends were selling it, nobody saw it as a big deal, so no matter how many times he tried to stop, he just started the cycle all over again. His father just grunted, nodding as he straightened up again, picking the tackle box up._

 

_“Well, sometimes it’s not what you’re trying, it’s how hard you’re trying” He spoke, that familiar steady and comforting tone in his voice. Jayme frowned._

 

_“I - I have no idea what that means” His father nodded._

 

_“Well. Then maybe it’s a good thing I’m allowed to stick around here for another few months after all” He stated, rounding his son and heading towards the garage door before turning around and looking at Jayme. “Are you coming?”_

 

_Jayme nodded, following his father to fish with him for the last time ever._

 

  
***

 

  
Jayme swallowed, staring down at the chipped tooth for a moment longer before shaking his head, getting rid of the tears that were collecting in his eyes at the memory of the best person he had ever known. Then he threw the piece of tooth away.

 

Maybe he didn’t like eating all too much, but he wasn’t sick. There was a difference. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case there are people who don't know, whenever I make manips or gifsets or things like that in relation to this story, you can find it [here!](http://milkozude.tumblr.com/tagged/jickey)
> 
> Also, lowkey like... don't ever underestimate your comments and shit because knowing that people are reading this is literally one of the reasons why I'm continuing it, and my passion is coming back. I was bored for a while, and I was like 'Eh, I'm gonna finish it up really quickly' but now I want to take my time and I have some good things planned for it, so... yeah. Don't hesitate to ask about stuff or anything because I kind of like answering lmao
> 
> <3


	23. Be Your Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a really old place, and there’s this legend that the horseman was actually the very first owner of it - hundreds of years ago. And that the place where he was decapitated is at this one spot where they built the stable. That he haunts it now. Everybody avoids it, says they get a chill whenever they get near it. I do too, but maybe that’s just because of the story” Jayme chuckled once, and Mickey frowned, fighting a grin as he pushed himself up once again.
> 
> “You believe it?” Jayme shook his head.
> 
> “Nah. I just kind of like the story. For some reason”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this chapter featuring some quick information about some of Jayme's tattoos because I just realized that I know of the main ones and you guys don't. Whoops.

”What about this one?” Mickey’s hand rested loosely over one side of Jayme’s lower abdomen, his fingers seeming to brush a little bit over the piece of artwork. The colors were very dark, barely anything but blue tones; maybe some blacks and some greys. The majority was very much a cobalt color. Mickey couldn’t see it perfectly from this angle, his cheek resting against his boyfriend’s collarbone as they basked in afterglow of the previous lazy morning fucking session. Though he had looked at it plenty of times, he just hadn’t thought to ask about it.

 

It was possible that it was one of his favorite tattoos of Jayme’s, just because of how cool it looked. It seemed to be of a large, black and strong horse in the middle of some kind of eerie woods. On top was a man, riding it, though the one thing that made it particularly awesome was the fact that said man - didn’t have a head. Just a neck, blood pouring out all over himself and the horse that seemed to push them further along the trail.

 

Jayme cleared his throat, fingers brushing over Mickey’s lower back lazily.

 

“That’s the headless horseman” He stated. “I think there’s a lot of different versions of the story - might be from Europe originally, Germany, maybe” Mickey could feel the vibrations of the dark voice through his chest and throat with how closely they were pressed together, and he did his best to hang onto the words instead of just getting lost in the naked sound of the pitch and the accent; he was used to it now, of course - it didn’t throw him off quite as much as it had in the beginning, but he still liked it. A lot. It felt safe, somehow - hell if he knew why. “But back in Australia - the ranch where I grew up - “

 

“You grew up on a fucking ranch?” Mickey frowned, lifting his head up and turning his body slightly more towards his stomach so that he could look down into Jayme’s eyes as he nodded, the arched eyebrows pulling together somewhat as well.

 

“Yeah - well it’s kind of a farm, and kind of a ranch, both I guess - I never told you?” Mickey shook his head.

 

“No” Thinking back, Mickey might have heard him mention horses or the country once or twice, but he supposed that he had just assumed it had been a small part of his life. Like Winnie had lived on a ranch, or they had lived close and used to visit or some shit - it just felt off. That this tall ass, blue haired, tattoo covered, former drug addict had probably grown up wearing a cowboy hat. It just wasn’t who he was in Mickey’s mind - he had been able to see him in a torn up building, those fucking combat boots scratching the pavement in the middle of the city - not a ranch. It was weird.

 

“Have to take you there sometime, yeah” It didn’t sound like a serious offer, at least not at this point in time - more like a _‘Yeah, yeah - now you know, babe, let me finish my story’_ but either way, Mickey bit the inside of his bottom lip, not sure if he wanted to cringe or smile.

 

Jayme may be somehow both a fucking cowboy and a punk - Mickey was not. It was not his thing. At all. Anyway - he pushed it out of his mind and laid back down, continuing to listen to his boyfriend’s voice as he continued talking about the tattoo, both of them looking down at it, fingers brushing over it, brushing each other’s.

 

“It’s a really old place, and there’s this legend that the horseman was actually the very first owner of it - hundreds of years ago. And that the place where he was decapitated is at this one spot where they built the stable. That he haunts it now. Everybody avoids it, says they get a chill whenever they get near it. I do too, but maybe that’s just because of the story” Jayme chuckled once, and Mickey frowned, fighting a grin as he pushed himself up once again.

 

“You believe it?” Jayme shook his head.

 

“Nah. I just kind of like the story. For some reason” Mickey hummed, placing his hand down completely against the shaded skin, for a minute watching the pale color against it, and the messy black letters on his knuckles; right when he got out of prison, he had been feeling kind of bad about them, honestly - like he wasn’t shit because of these bold letters, this curse word on his hand. Although, he had been feeling bad about himself for a number of different reasons as well - still did - but he was starting to be alright again. And his tattoos were him - well, the knuckle ones, at least - and he couldn’t see himself getting rid of them, honestly.

 

Especially not now, as Jayme’s large hand was cupped over his own, soft fingertips tracing the lines of ink.

 

“This one?” Mickey just found himself asking, then, as his eyes focused on the bouquet of lilies that trailed down from Jayme’s mid-forearm to cover his hand. It was all in black and white, but it was beautifully done, different shades, shapes and shadows. It almost looked realistic. It wasn’t as if Mickey had never looked at Jayme’s tattoos in detail in the past - he had - he just hadn’t asked about any of them particularly.

 

Except for the human heart with the compass embedded in it that covered about half of his neck - Mickey knew that he had gotten that one after he had laid off the drugs; it was to remind him that he knew in his heart where he needed to go - Mickey had asked about that one pretty early on, because it was the most noticeable on his body.

 

“My mum’s name is Lily” Jayme was a person who spoke quickly just naturally - words seemed to fall off of his tongue without much problem - but those five words were spoken even faster, and it caused Mickey to frown. It was quite obvious that it was something he didn’t like to talk about all too much - the younger man had found himself asking about his mother maybe once or twice - but he always seemed to somehow clamp up. A rare thing, when it came to him.

 

To this day, Mickey knew only a few things about Jayme’s mother - she couldn’t cook, Jayme had always gravitated more towards his father than her, and now that her name was Lily. He had a slight feeling that there was something more there, something that was the reason as to why his boyfriend seemed to avoid the topic of his female parent as much as he could - and his father, for that matter, but Mickey knew the reason for that one. It was painful, he had loved him. But in any case, Mickey saw no reason to put Jayme in a conversation he didn’t want to be in. So why the fuck did his mouth just -

 

“You never talk about her” run off? Fuck. But in reality - there wasn’t a chance in hell that Jayme hated his mother or anything, he had gotten a tattoo for her, a large one. For some reason, it was just interesting, and Mickey wanted to know more about his boyfriend’s past. Although, he could recognize that he was being pushy, something he usually would not at all label himself as.

 

“She’s nice” Jayme’s voice seemed to go even deeper with the words - something that always happened whenever he got nervous or uncomfortable in a situation, so Mickey decided not to ask any more questions about it at all. “We’re just different people is all. You know I liked my father better, yeah? And I think she always liked my - “ Suddenly, he just stopped talking, as if he had found himself saying something he shouldn’t have, or as if he just got a bad taste in his mouth for some reason.

 

Mickey frowned deeply, wondering what the fuck just happened.

 

“Your what, man?” Jayme shook his head, tugging his boyfriend a little bit closer to himself, continuing to look up into the blue eyes.

 

“Never mind” The deep voice spoke. “Don’t want to talk about it, just like you don’t want to talk about your shit right now, yeah?” Mickey nodded once - he got it. Maybe at some point he would, maybe someday he would want to tell Jayme the few details he remembered about his mother, maybe someday he would feel strong enough to reveal that one thing that he was scared would break them - the reason he had been in prison. Jayme didn’t know about that yet, and whenever Mickey thought about it, his throat stung, a bad taste appearing in his mouth. But for now, he pushed it out of his head.

 

It was the bright morning of a day off - well, almost, he remembered Jayme saying something about one class later in the afternoon but it was still a lot more calm than most of their days - so they could deal with this shit another time.

 

“Okay”

 

A moment later, that one grin appeared on Jayme’s face, and Mickey could only register that fact for a short moment before he was pushed back down to meet his lips in another heavy kiss, the two of them getting lost, tangled up in the sheets for another hour or two.

 

  
***

 

  
Jayme brought his hand up to his forehead, palm pressing against the pale skin before moving backwards, his long fingers threading through the strands of somewhat fading blue hair - he should really get to re-doing it at one point or another. The one, large black hoodie that had once belonged to his father hung over his upper body, he had thrown it on the second he and Mickey had finally decided to push themselves out of bed. It just felt good - like a warm hug. The kind of hug that he would never again be able to feel.

 

Sometimes it still smelled like him, too - but only sometimes. Jayme had worn it so much that at this point, it mostly smelled like himself. Especially after the first time that he had washed it - after that, the scent of the man had almost been completely gone, and since he had tried a number of different products and ways to clean it, trying to find a way to get it back. Once in a while it worked, but for the most part it was only a distant memory.

 

He picked at the end of one of the hoodie strings for a short minute, staring deep into his own eyes, bored. Lost. Then he snapped himself out of it, and he brought both of his arms behind himself, gripping the thick fabric and pulling the clothing piece off of his body, dropping it down onto the cold floor of the bathroom. Without thinking much more, he sighed comfortably, and he reached for the toothbrush on the side of the sink, he ran the bristles under the running water, placing some toothpaste onto them before beginning to clean his teeth.

 

The one that had broken a few days ago wasn’t hurting all that much, so Jayme had stopped worrying at all. Surely it had been nothing at all, surely nothing like it would never happen again, he had great teeth. His eyes were focused onto the white surface, the sound of the brushing blending with the muffled noise of the coffee that his boyfriend had apparently started in the kitchen.

 

It all seemed to add up into an oddly normal morning - something that Jayme had begun appreciating since he had gotten off of the hard stuff. The smell of coffee, and the sound of early morning television, knowing that somebody else was in the apartment - whether that was Mickey, Winnie or Drew - it felt kind of nice to have something so normal.

 

Jayme took the toothbrush out of his mouth, spitting out into the sink and watching the water wash it down. He then bent over, sticking his head underneath, getting some of it into his mouth to clean out the last of the minty paste, spitting out that as well, running the brush underneath the water and then turning it off, placing it into the cup again.

 

Once the water was turned off, everything somehow fell oddly quiet, and Jayme found himself looking into his own eyes once again. A small strand of hair fell down into his forehead, and he became annoyed, lifting both of his arms up to bring it all to the back of his head, tying it up with the skinny, black hairtie - something that was gradually becoming easier the longer he was neglecting to cut it.

 

After that, his hands landed on the edge of the sink, curling around the cold material while his eyes seemed to end up wandering over his own body, getting stuck on one area.

 

The arched eyebrows drew together a little bit into a frown when he noticed it; his collarbones. They were visible, standing out underneath the skin, especially when he was slightly bent over like this - but, but… they had been more so the other day, hadn’t they? Had he gained weight?

 

Jayme straightened up, bringing his right hand up to his left collarbone, feeling it, placing his fingertips in the bowl, seeing how much of them he could fit. He frowned a little bit further once he noticed that he could only press them to about his first knuckle; hadn’t he been able to reach at least halfway to his second one the other day? Maybe even his second one completely.

 

Soon, he got an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, and he dropped his arms to hang by his sides, staying like that for a minute before he picked the hoodie back up off of the floor, placing it back over his body so that he wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey resisted yawning as he had his hand cupped around one of the large cups, holding the pot of coffee in his other one, watching the steaming, black liquid being poured over, filling it up, the pure smell reaching his nose somehow waking him up.

 

In a way, he supposed that he was a lot happier now - lately - than he had been in a long time. For many years, all of his time had been spent worrying - worrying about Ian, about Mandy, about Yevgeny, about his life - and although he was still concerned about a majority of those things - not Ian, of course. He actually felt as if he was over him, truly at this point. Anyway, having Jayme, and having a job, and having a life - it made him somehow feel a lot more secure, and happier.

 

Especially on perfect days like this one; his ass had been pounded thoroughly several times this morning, lots of coffee was available, along with stupid ass cartoons on the television, and he had nowhere to be all day - it felt pretty good.

 

The warmth of the hot coffee seeped through the ceramic mug slightly, warming up Mickey’s palm as he stood in the middle of the livingroom, eyes focused on the television screen, following the old re-run episode of south park that he had seen a thousand and one times in the past. It was still funny as fuck - although not at all as funny as it was when he had some weed in his system. He took a big bite of the piece of buttered toast in his hand, washing it down with another gulp of coffee.

 

“That was fucking weak, man” He whispered absentmindedly at whatever obvious, dirty joke was being made at the time. A moment later, two long arms snaked their way around his waist, and even if Mickey had tried, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep from grinning at the feeling, at least a little bit. One of the large hands were placed on the side of his neck, turning his head to the side; Mickey immediately tilted his chin up, parting his lips to accept the deep kiss that Jayme gave him, their tongues sliding over each other in a way that they were well practiced in by now.

 

Once they pulled apart, Jayme hummed deep down in his throat, grinning before dropping one more peck to his boyfriend’s lips, his arms them unwrapping themselves from around his body. Mickey smiled back, taking another bite of the toast and beginning to walk over to the kitchen.

 

“There’s toast, man. Want some?” Jayme immediately shook his head at the offer, though.

 

“Nah. I’ll just get some coffee, I’m not all that hungry” Mickey shrugged, nodding, all the while ignoring the unsettled feeling in his stomach. Jayme could do whatever he wanted, he wasn’t his fucking mother.

 

  
***

 

  
Despite the fact that it was beginning to head towards the end of the year, the air outside wasn’t all that cold anymore - it was as if it went back and forth a little bit - sure, it was to the point where you could see your breath at certain points of the day, but not all the time, and it certainly wasn’t snowing just yet - something that should be happening soon, by the way. But a couple of days ago, just as when Mickey had first arrived up here, it had been teeth chattering cold. it was strange, as if the world couldn’t decide or some shit.

 

Mickey let his arm fall to the side of his body, the smoke escaping out through his nose, almost seeming to dance into different shapes, turning and twirling right in front of his face before finally disappearing into thin air. The cigarette was pinched in between his index and middle finger, his back leaning against the old, red bricks that made up the apartment building. He took another drag, feeling the warmth enter his lungs again before he parted his lips, letting it escape his mouth slowly. His tongue moved over the bar in his tongue, playing with the piercing slightly for a moment as he just breathed in; the toxic smoke, and the fresh air both.

 

Mickey was slightly surprised when he turned his head, the rolling sound reaching his ears along with the view of his tall ass boyfriend coming towards him on the street, the skateboard placed underneath his feet. He raised his eyebrows, straightening up a little bit - it was still somewhat early in the day, but then again, he remembered him mentioning that he only had one class, so it made sense for him to be back early.

 

For a moment, Mickey was just quiet, watching him - Jayme was fucking hot. Especially now, with that leather jacket on, together with the beanie. The hat might cover the majority of the hair that Mickey found himself cherishing so much, although because of that it exposed his face completely. A face that could only possibly be described as beautiful - honestly.

 

“Hey, man” Mickey took another drag of the cigarette, not thinking over it all too much - seeing as they were outside, and it had happened once or twice before that they had run into each other like this while he had been smoking, it rarely seemed to bother Jayme as much as it did, had they been inside where the smell would have stayed int he carpet and shit, and he would have had to deal with it for longer. He licked his lips, the smoke escaping out through his mouth, some more through his nostrils, mixing together with the view of his pure breath, seeing as it was becoming colder the later it became in the day.

 

“Hey” Jayme grinned when he was close enough to do so, clearing his throat and stepping off of the skateboard. His face was just the slightest shade redder than it would be normally, most likely due to the slight cold and the speed of the board. Mickey took a step or two over to him, clutching his fist around his jacket, tilting his head upwards enough that his boyfriend could wrap his own arm around his waist, placing an open mouthed, perfect kiss to his mouth.

 

The two of them stayed like that for a short moment or two, just pressing their chapped lips together, enjoying the heat of their tongues laying against each other’s; then Mickey pulled away, just so that he could tilt his head to the other side, kissing him once more before they finally pulled apart, the boyfriends grinning.

 

Mickey backed away, lifting the short cigarette back up to his lips and taking another drag of it, knowing that he should probably drop it after this one. Jayme shifted his attention to the heavy bag that hung over his shoulder, digging through it - it was something Mickey recognized that he did a lot whenever he got home - made sure he had everything, made sure he hadn’t brought something he didn’t need to and shit. Not that Mickey knew how the fuck he had the time - back when he was in school, he could barely gather up enough bother to show up for the majority of his classes at all.

 

But then again - Jayme had chosen this, Mickey would never.

 

At least not right now. He would be lying if he were to say that going back to school had never once crossed his mind, but even so - finding a college that would accept someone who had been locked up for attempted murder probably wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. Whether the charges were eventually dropped or not. And it wasn’t as if he had money for it, he would have to work twenty four seven. And even then - he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, what he would want to study. It seemed stupid to go back to school if he wouldn’t even know what he was doing it for.

 

“Mickey?” Jayme’s voice tugged him out of whatever planet he had been living on for the moment being, the tone of the words suggesting that he had said something once or twice, and Mickey just hadn’t heard him through his brain. He raised his eyebrows, and his boyfriend nodded towards his hand and his pocket.

 

“I said you have another one?” The thick eyebrows fell a little bit again, knitting together instead as Mickey did his best to figure out what exactly Jayme was getting at; normally, he would assume that the person meant a cigarette, and he would hand it over, no problem, but that couldn’t be what he meant.

 

“A what?”

 

“A cigarette, mate. You got more?” Jayme clarified seemingly easily, but it only made Mickey even more confused - of course in his own mind, a cigarette was nothing at all. But for as long as he had fucking known Jayme, anything - literally anything - that could be even remotely considered a drug had been off limits, not in his house, not in his body - and please not often in his sight if it was possibly. So for him to be standing in front of Mickey, asking for one, it just threw him off, that was all.

 

“Yeah, I got more” Mickey nodded once, but made no attempt to reach for his pocket to grab the pack. “Thought you were off everything” A part of Mickey still remembered the whole Ian situation - how badly he had fought to take care of him, to make sure that he was doing nothing to himself that would end up damaging his health - mental or otherwise - and while now he was aware that a lot of the shit that they had gone through had been Ian’s fault - not his - there was still that voice inside of his head that told him that he had been going at it too hard. That he had been acting like Ian’s mother or some shit - a stereotypical one, not Monica.

 

So the last thing Mickey wanted to do was do the same thing with Jayme. Which was why he wasn’t immediately refusing to give him one.

 

“Had one with Winnie the other day, I’m fine. Long as I stay off the hard stuff, I reckon” Mickey frowned, stomach filled with doubt. But he reached into his pocket anyway, and he handed the cigarette over, watching Jayme light it up, sighing as the smoke filled his lungs.

 

  
***

 

  
After their smoke break, Jayme had headed back up to the apartment, but Mickey didn’t. He had made some lame-ass excuse about heading over to the construction site to check on something or some shit, and he had started walking, hands tucked deep down into his pockets as the streetlights slowly begun flickering to life again, signalling that the end of the day was beginning to become closer and closer the darker it got, the sky a deep shade of grey at this point.

 

It wasn’t as if Mickey was sure that he was doing the right thing - he didn’t know if he was being an overprotective pussy or anything - but he was fucking worried. He couldn’t help that, and that was why he had to do this, to assure himself that everything was alright. Maybe it would be a mess, dragging a third person into the mix, but he just felt as if he couldn’t ask Jayme about this.

 

Jayme had already explained to him that ‘as long as he stayed off the hard stuff, he was fine’ Alright. Fine. Mickey didn’t have a problem with that at all, but then there was those few words that rang inside of his head over and over and over, the ones that just didn’t seem to leave him alone no matter what he did.

 

_“What - you - what, you think she’s gonna get him into that shit again?”_   
_“I don’t think so. Don’t think he’d be that stupid, and I hope she’s smarter since her time in prison, but just… Take care of him.”_

 

How the fuck was Mickey supposed to take care of him, and make sure that Jayme wasn’t getting into all of that shit again - if he wasn’t sure where the true line was? He had never dealt with addicts before - not really. Alcoholics, sure - and a fuckton of drugs, both inside of him and around him. But he had never dealt with addicts, not like this. Not anybody close to him, so how was he supposed to?

 

Another reason why he felt the need to do this tonight was just the fact that he remembered the times when Ian had been at his worst, but he hadn’t realized it - neither of them had. Ian had lied straight to Mickey’s face - consciously or subconsciously - and it had fucked them both over. So no - Mickey didn’t want Jayme to end up getting back into all of that shit again, just because he had ignored the possible warning signs himself.

 

Mickey placed his palm against the door, pushing his way inside.

 

“Would you hold on for a second, I’ll be right with you - Mickey” Drew changed his tone to sound a little bit less rehearsed once he noted that the person entering was somebody he actually knew. “Give me a second?” Mickey nodded, shrugging as the brown skinned man shifted his attention back to the lower leg of the person he was working on, wiping the piece off once before going back to tattooing.

 

Mickey took a few steps over towards the counter, beginning to flip through a few of the papers that were laid out, different drawings and ideas, some quotes that were drawn into pieces - he couldn’t know which ones were Drew’s and which ones weren’t, but either way they were all fucking awesome. A part of him even begun thinking about what he would want, were he to ever want to cover up the hideous mess on his chest - which he was planning to do eventually. He just wasn’t sure when.

 

The studio was surprisingly quiet now - only the buzzing of a couple of tattoo guns and some soft kind of music playing - comparing that to the usual five or six tattoo guns, the loud music, and the talking that was usually background noise during the day whenever you were in this place, it was a lot more subtle.

 

“Are you planning on getting anything?” Mickey turned around when he heard Drew’s voice behind him, and he chuckled.

 

“Nah, nah - well, yeah. Soon, but that’s not why I’m here now” He explained, to which the tattoo artist nodded.

 

“Alright, we’re taking a break right now before we start on the colors” He nodded towards the woman who’s leg he had just been tattooing, she was still sitting in the chair, scrolling on her phone, not paying them any sort of attention for the moment being - to which Mickey was grateful. “What’s up?” Mickey sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

 

Now, more than ever, he was nervous that he was overreacting. It just seemed so stupid. _‘Help me. My boyfriend is a smoker now, what do I do?’_ Like a fucking girl or some shit - but at the end of the day, he did sort of have a legitimate reason to be concerned, and besides, it wasn’t as if he would be able to stop worrying until he heard Drew say that it was nothing, so -

 

“Jay’s smoking” Mickey forced himself to say, his voice slightly lowered as they leaned over the counter on opposite sides, making sure the conversation was going as unnoticed as it could being that there were still three other people in the studio. Drew sighed, breaking the eye contact as he ran his hand over his face and through the blonde curls on top of his head. “Feel kind of stupid worrying and shit, but I don’t know where the fucking line goes, I never knew him back then”

 

“No, no” Drew nodded, looking at Mickey again. “You’re right. He should _not_ be doing that” Something seemed to sink in Mickey’s chest at the confirmation. “Is he doing anything else?” Mickey shook his head; no.

 

“Not that I know, no.” For a second after that, he was quiet. Then he found himself adding; “He’s not eating”

 

In the beginning, Jayme’s weight and eating habits wasn’t something Mickey had been worried about - he hadn’t known him all too well in the beginning of course, and a part of him still felt as if he hadn’t known him long enough to comment on it, it had only been a few months. But lately, he had noticed that Jayme had gone from having two slices of pizza to having one, or from having one piece of toast to none. For a six foot, whatever the fuck grown man - that shit just couldn’t be healthy.

 

“Fuck, I thought he was getting better” Drew placed his elbows onto the glass counter as he groaned the words, his face buried, eyes pressed into his palms. The moment later he collected himself, and he nodded, looking up at Mickey once again, who was biting the inside of his cheek, fingers wanting to reach for another cigarette from the stress, but it just felt wrong for the moment being. “I’ll figure it out, okay? I know who to call, just - for now, go home and try to keep him from that shit, alright?”

 

Mickey wanted to ask what he meant by ‘who to call’ but he chose not to. At this point, listening to Drew seemed to be the only sane thing to do, so he nodded and he agreed, hoping that whatever the fuck he was planning to do would make things better.

 

  
***

 

  
“Everything go ‘right?” Jayme called from the livingroom the moment that Mickey walked back inside of the apartment.

 

“Yeah, man” He answered back, stepping out of his shoes and getting rid of his jacket before heading further in, not sure if he wanted to frown or laugh when he heard the song coming from the television. The few words he picked up were ‘Sweet transvestite’ and ‘Candyman’. He crossed his arms, standing in the middle of the livingroom, focusing on the man dancing around the screen, a fuck ton of makeup on his face. “The fuck kind of movie is this?” It was obvious it was old - seventies, maybe. It seemed fun, though.

 

“Rocky Horror Picture Show” Jayme stated. “I’d call it a classic, you don’t know it?” Mickey shook his head, walking closer to his boyfriend as he chuckled once.

 

“No” He sank down onto the couch, Jayme humming.

 

“It’s my favorite”

 

“Seriously, man?” Mickey frowned, turning his head to look at his boyfriend, the hazel eyes still focused on the screen, his mouth pulled up into a grin.

 

“Yeah”

 

“Alright”

 

  
***

 

  
It was during a commercial break, maybe an hour or so later that Jayme’s ringtone begun sounding throughout the livingroom, and Mickey eased forwards, looking at the screen where the device laid on the coffee table, closer towards him than Jayme.

 

“Who’s it?” The dark voice asked.

 

“Jonathan” Mickey stated, lifting it up. He had intended on handing it over, but as soon as he said the name out loud, the phone was snatched from his grasp anyway, the call immediately declined. “The fuck, man?” He asked, Jayme placing it down onto the other end of the table, his face settled into a somewhat angry expression. Then he softened a little bit, seeming to understand how fast he had moved, and he turned to look at Mickey, shaking his head.

 

“Sorry, don’t worry about it. It’s no one”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is going down, guys. Also, sorry for not updating as frequently (this fic, as well as Colors, which I'm planning to update within a week or two, hopefully.) but I'm just trying to prioritize my book for the moment being. Thank you to those of you who still are sticking with this I love you so much <3 
> 
> (Also, if you're ever on my tumblr then you know that I am so fucking sick right now like it's not even funny. So I've just been like drinking tea and I've been watching a bunch of movies and the other day, I re-watched RHPS and it just seemed obvious that it's Jayme's favorite movie for some reason? Like? It just works so well? Doesn't it? I don't know this might just be my fever talking but I had to put that in there real quick. Bye)


	24. Heard He Was Hiding Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. No.
> 
> “Jonathan. The fuck are you doing here?” Jayme could hear the growl in his own voice, but of course the other man didn’t care - as usual, he kept that annoying smile on his face, and he crossed his arms, shrugging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited and I don't have an excuse.

Mickey closed his eyes tightly as he felt the large hand curl around the back of his neck, his teeth grasping at his bottom lip as his entire body was being pressed up against the cold shower wall, causing goose bumps to appear all over his pale flesh. His own hands were pressed up against it as well, steadying his body, curling into fists and them straightening out a few times over, trying to deal with the pleasure that came from his boyfriend moving in and out of him, fucking him thoroughly.

 

He could feel his breath on the back of his neck - well, taking their height difference into account, it was more on the top of his head, but it was still hot and heavy, matching his own, the occasional groan slipping out of one of their mouths with no way of knowing who’s - they were a little bit too gone for that. The short nails were digging into the sides of Mickey’s neck, the other hand placed firmly, curling around his hip as the large cock thrusted in and out of him with little mercy.

 

“Jesus fuck-ing christ” Mickey hiccuped, Jayme agreeing with a loud moan, seeming to pick up the speed a little bit, fucking him harder, the younger man biting down on his tongue so hard that he was beginning to taste some blood. The water continued to pour down all over them from the shower head, drenching them both, their skin hot from it. “Fuck” Mickey sighed again, a deep frown etched into his forehead, eyes still screwed shut as his boyfriend continued to hit the exact right spot inside of him over and over again, his legs beginning to go weak at the feeling. In fact, if Jayme hadn’t been holding him up against the wall as firmly as he was, odds were he would have already been on the floor of the small tub.

 

They both continued moving together, throats drying out and deeper and louder moans and groans escaping the closer they got to the finish line. When Mickey felt his boyfriend’s lips being pressed to the back of his neck, his own tugged up into somewhat of an exhausted grin, his orgasm quickly building up in his stomach. His hands were curled into tight fists now, knuckles pressing up against the slippery wall, wishing that he had something better to grab onto.

 

As if Jayme was able to read his thoughts, the hand soon left his hip, wrapping around his hard cock instead, beginning to stroke it in time to his thrusts as he continued to fuck him, picking up the pace even a little bit more, seemingly desperate to get to the end, their breathing growing all the more intense, Mickey’s teeth digging deeper into the inside of his bottom lip, the slight tinge of blood becoming slightly more apparent for every single time that the tip of his boyfriend’s cock slammed against that one spot inside of him, causing that special feeling to run down his spine.

 

“Fuck” The dark voice hiccuped right before Mickey felt the lips attaching to his skin again, sucking and manipulating the skin in a way that was sure to leave a mark. Then, without much warning at all, he swiped his thumb over the tip of Mickey’s cock, and they were both coming. Shaking and moaning and groaping, eyes clenched shut. Jayme tightened his hold a little bit further, keeping him tightly pressed up against the wall as they froze, his cock buried deep inside of him; they took a moment to recover, and then Mickey could feel his boyfriend’s hands loosening again, his dick easing out of him.

 

Mickey swallowed, hearing the sound of the condom being discarded as he did his best to regain his balance; that was, until he didn’t need to do so, because he was spun around, pressed up against the wall once again now, a mouth immediately claiming his own. He hated the satisfied little ‘hum’ that escaped his own throat at the sudden gesture, but he couldn’t help it; it felt too good - anything with Jayme did, really. So he reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck, trying to deepen it, both of them struggling to keep their smiles under control as they did so. They were too fucking happy.

 

  
***

 

  
Of course - as soon as they weren’t in the same room anymore, Mickey begun to worry again. It wasn’t as if he was over thinking every single little thing that Jayme did, or as if he thought about this shit day in and day out or anything, but it had been at least a few days since he had spoken to Drew, and all he had said was that he was taking care of it. The fuck did that mean? It wasn’t as if Jayme was strung out on heroin right now or anything - he was smoking, and he was drinking beer. He wasn’t getting drunk to the point of passing out, but Mickey had certainly caught that red-ish look in his eyes from time to time.

 

Mickey felt like a chick for worrying - smoking and drinking? That was fucking nothing, nine year olds did that back where he had grown up. But maybe he just didn’t want to deal with having to take care of somebody again - not like he had in the past. Which sounded stupid, but he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to do was to get roped into being a care-taker again, as much as he cared for the guy. Not that he would ever dump Jayme because of this shit, or that he would ever blame Ian for being sick back then - but, ah, fuck, he couldn’t explain it. But Ian had changed so much, and he had become this different person - maybe Mickey just didn’t want to fall for somebody and have the same thing happen again. Maybe that would break him.

 

He was sitting on the couch, an opened can of root beer on the table in front of him as he watched whatever shitty ass slasher movie happened to be on on a sunday night - it was one of the ones that really didn’t have a lot of plot to them, just gore - and of course white people that made you go ‘what the fuck’ - in other words, mindless entertainment which Mickey was rarely opposed to. The hair on top of his head was still wet from the long shower, his ass throbbing slightly.

 

Jayme was still in the bedroom, audibly rummaging around some drawers, probably to find something to wear; and the darkness was starting to fall outside of the window, the streetlights flickering to turn on and light up the way.

 

Mickey reached for the can of soda, bringing it up to his lips to drink some of it, his eyes still focused on the television screen, although his mind was beginning to drift. A part of him sighing internally at the fact that he had to go to work in less than ten hours - in reality, he knew that he should just feel lucky that he had a job at all, being that he had been both in prison and in juvie - and he was. He just wished that he could find something that was slightly more entertaining than a construction site. He supposed he could hit up some bars and see if he could be a bartender or something - being that he had actually done that shit in the past once or twice back at the alibi, when Kev had been out - and if he was being honest, he didn’t have a good reason for not having done so already.

 

No fucking doubt that being a bartender - or really, doing anything other than working at the site would suit him better - but he had just stumbled into this, and he got paid for it, so he didn’t see much of a reason to quit it. Besides - it wasn’t horrible, it was fine.

 

As he took another drink of the soda, his mind continued to spin a little bit - spin about his job, about the undeniable similarities in between Ian and Jayme, and even about Yevgeny - however, before he could get very far with either of those thought trails, he was tugged out into the real world by the sound of a cellphone ringing. He frowned, leaning forwards to see the screen - it was Jayme’s, vibrations causing it to keep moving around on the coffee table - there it was again. That name.

 

Jonathan.

 

The same name that had showed up on his boyfriend’s phone at least once a day in the past few days - sometimes even twice. Mickey wasn’t the jealous type - well, actually… that might be a lie - but maybe he thought that he was somewhat justified this time, not that his anger not being justified had ever really stopped him in the past. It wasn’t some random guy calling and calling Jayme that got on Mickey’s nerves, though - not really - it was more the way that his boyfriend seemed to react to it - the way that he always shrugged and brushed it off. Seemingly always dodging Mickey’s questions about it.

 

Of course his fingers twitched, wanting to pick the cellphone up and answer - to get one, and to possibly tell him to fuck off - but even he wasn’t that petty.

 

“Your phone’s ringing again, man” Mickey raised his voice to call instead, biting his tongue to keep from asking as Jayme walked out of the room, seemingly in a hurry to reach for the device and pick it up, declining the call without as much as a millisecond’s hesitation. Mickey was leaned back on the couch, the soda close to his mouth as he kept his eyes on the slasher movie, trying not to let himself -

 

“You ever gonna tell me who the fuck Jonathan is?” Fuck it. The second after the question had left his mouth, he tilted his head backwards, looking up, their eyes meeting. For a short second, he thought that he could see something in the hazel color - some kind of anger, or annoyance - but it was barely there before he had blinked it away, and he shrugged, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Mickey. Told you it’s no one, yeah?” After that, Mickey was silent, their eyes staying connected as Jayme sank down onto the couch right next to him, inching his face closer to his boyfriend’s. “Yeah?” He repeated, visibly trying to keep his smile under control. And damn it, Mickey was whipped, because a quick kiss to his lips was all he needed to let it go. At least for the moment being.

 

  
***

 

  
It was almost exactly twenty four hours later that Mickey was on his way back to the apartment, and for the first time after he didn’t know how fucking long, his body was actually aching. As if he had been working out really hard or something like that - an ache he recognized from being locked up, seeing as there hadn’t been much else to do in there. This pain just came from work, though - carrying wood and handling tools and a bunch of other shit that Mickey highly doubted that he was actually qualified to do, and for that matter - was beginning to get tired of.

 

In the beginning, working at the construction site had been completely fine - a job, at least. A way to get some money. But the longer that he worked there, the longer the days seemed to become, and the more he was realizing that he was just full on fucking dreading it. But of course he did it anyway, because what was the alternative? Quitting? Not having any money? Living in Jayme’s apartment for free, letting him pay everything? Fuck that shit - and besides, Mickey also needed some money for Svetlana and Yevgeny, so in any case, he was stuck.

 

But then again, he realized as he walked down the street, the last remaining bit of daylight falling over the pavement and the store signs in front of him - maybe it couldn’t hurt to look around a little bit, see if there was something else. Something inside, preferably - it was going towards the very end of the year now, December would be here in a day or two, and Mickey was starting to shake - even the thickest jacket wouldn’t keep him completely warm. Which it never did, but he had forgotten quite how much of a bitch the weather could be.

 

For a split second, he considered asking Drew if they had something - he wasn’t a tattoo artist, obviously, but maybe he could learn to be a piercer. Or answer phones or some shit like that. He shook that idea off rather quickly, though, because at the end of the day, he wanted to get something for himself. Asking his boyfriend’s best friend for a job - just, no. He wasn’t doing that. Even if he liked Drew and thought he was a nice guy, he just didn’t want to be that person. Maybe because of that, even.

 

Maybe this was stupid - maybe Mickey should just fucking be happy that he had a job at all and stop complaining. Especially with his background - he wasn’t a full on murderer, but there were certainly people with more flattering baggage than his own.

 

So in the end, he just decided to stop thinking about this shit. It was better to be alright with what he had.

 

  
***

 

  
And Mickey truly meant that. Which was why he wasn’t completely and one hundred percent sure as to why he found himself sitting in a bar merely ten or fifteen minutes later, staring as his thumb picked at the label of a bottle of beer. He had figured that Jayme was probably home studying or some shit - he could take some time to drink - or think, but he preferred to call it the first one. And the more he sat there, at the end of the counter, the more of the dark green bottle seemed to become exposed from underneath the sticky label. Something he only did when he was really deep inside of his own head - which was not good.

 

He wasn’t sure where he was - well, he knew he was a few blocks away from the apartment, but he didn’t know the name of the bar or whatever, and he had never been in here before. Usually, if he was really craving a real beer, he would go to one that was closer to his work. Which didn’t happen all too often - even if Jayme was completely fine with it, Mickey didn’t like it. Especially not now. He couldn’t ever see himself giving up drinking or smoking, but he was terrified of it rubbing off on Jayme even more than it already had, and if he was being honest - a part of him was blaming himself.

 

Jayme had been doing great before he had walked into his life - on the road to recovery and all that shit. He had been happy. Not that he was much different now, but Drew had known him a fuck of a lot longer than Mickey, and even he had said that it wasn’t good that he was into smoking or drinking again, even if it was just a little bit.

 

So maybe there were a billion and one reasons as to why it was okay for Mickey to sit here, on a monday night, peeling away at a beer label.

 

“You look like you need something stronger” At the voice, Mickey immediately looked up, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion - if he was being honest, he had just about forgotten that there were actually other people in here. The bartender was probably around ten years older than himself - he kind of looked similar to Kev, actually. Just slightly shorter, and probably at least somewhat hispanic. Mickey knew that it was a part of his job to talk a little bit to the people that were spread around the bar, but he really wasn’t feeling it.

 

“Nah, man. I’m good” Mickey shook his head, but after a minute, he had a glass of bourbon pushed in front of his face anyway, and he looked up once again, raising his eyebrows. Although, his thumb slowly stopped peeling at the label of his beer, moving over towards the glass.

 

“On the house” The guy said - he didn’t wink, which Kev would have done, but the more words they exchanged, the more he reminded him of him. This cause Mickey to also feel as if the entire bar reminded him of the alibi - it wasn’t too far from it, actually. Slightly more classy, maybe, but not by a whole lot. A small part of Mickey missed it - the south side, as fucked up as it sounded. Or maybe it wasn’t the south side he missed as much as just the feeling of knowing something that well - a house, the people, the bar, the alleys.

 

As much as he liked Jayme, and despite the fact that Rockford was just fine, sometimes he felt like he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. So finally, he completely grabbed onto the glass and brought it up to his lips, swallowing down some of the strong liquid.

 

“Thanks, man” He winced slightly as he put it back down, the bartender nodding once, and then he turned around, beginning to walk away towards the the other end of the bar, leaving Mickey alone to his thoughts once again. Mickey hated his thoughts. His life was a mess, and for the first time, he had enough time to actually reflect on that fact, something that was not helping in any way whatsoever. Or maybe - maybe his life wasn’t a mess, maybe he just felt that way, because he finally had his own.

 

Mickey had a boyfriend, and a job, and an apartment, and none of it was illegal or attached to his father or his brothers. In a lot of ways, he supposed that it felt uncertain. Uncertain in the sense that what happens if…? So many ‘What happens if?’s. Back when he and Ian had been the most serious, he had still been in the old neighbourhood, with his brothers, and his old jobs, and the stolen cars, and the two houses that he could always run in between. This was weird - being an adult, and worrying about adult things - like his boyfriend doing drugs, or him not liking his job - it fucked him up. And he didn’t know what he wanted to do. It didn’t fucking help that Drew had said he was going to do something, or talk to him, but as far as Mickey knew he had done nothing, and - fuck, his arm hurt from work.

 

Mickey’s glass made a small noise as he dropped it down onto the counter top, sighing internally. Half of what went through his brain didn’t even make any sense, but they were there anyway, and he wasn’t sure how to get rid of the worry, or make his life better, because nothing was wrong.

 

“Hey” Mickey hadn’t even been completely aware that he had opened his mouth before the word was out of it, and the bartender had raised his eyebrows, looking at him as he waited for him to order. But that wasn’t why he had called for his attention, he realized. “Guessing you don’t need another bartender or something, right?”

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey could hear the bottom of his boots scraping against the pavement as he walked, a cigarette placed in between his middle and index finger, the smoke highly visible in the darkness in front of his face. He could feel the light drug enter his throat and lungs before sighed it out again. He had his other hand tucked down deeply inside his pocket, trying to keep as warm as he could under the circumstances - fuck, if the snow wasn’t here within a week, he would be surprised. That’s how fucking cold it was becoming at this point. Even his arms and chest were beginning to freeze, despite the thick clothing he had on to try to stop that from happening.

 

The bar that he had just left wasn’t far away from the apartment building at all, really, but it still took him a little bit longer than usual to walk - partly because of the cold, but also because he didn’t see a reason to rush. He wasn’t sure what it was, but lately, he had just started doubting Jayme and this whole relationship - not that he wanted to break up, fuck no - he liked him. A whole fucking lot. But they had still moved very fast, and they hadn’t known each other that long. Mickey had thought that Jayme had been this perfect guy - not perfect-perfect, but maybe close to it for him - he had thought that he had been sure of himself and his life, and his recovery, and now, he was seemingly getting back into all of this shit again - it just made Mickey nervous.

 

Had Drew not been worried, Mickey surely wouldn’t have been - but the fact that not only was the one person that knew Jayme the best, worried - but he had even warned Mickey about the fact that he would never be able to imagine him at his worst, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to find out what that meant.

 

After everything with Ian - Mickey supposed he was just worried that another man that he really, really liked - would end up changing. Or end up not being who he thought they were in the first place. Which wasn’t fair - bipolar disorder, addiction, none of it was their fault. He was smart enough to know that. But that didn’t change the fact that it made him feel unsure.

 

And maybe these thoughts were what caused Mickey to not walk straight home to the apartment, but instead he ended up entering the tattoo parlour, a mere few minutes away. Despite the fact that it was getting to be a little bit later in the day, the buzzing immediately filled his ears - a couple of machines - as well as some overplayed pop song that was being played from the stereo that was always placed on the counter.

 

“Mickey” Drew noticed him the second he walked in, since he currently was just sitting behind the cash register, seemingly working on some design or something, no client of his own in sight. Mickey raised his chin in a silent greeting, heading up towards him, his eyes immediately falling on the large piece of paper that was laid out, a large and complicated design drawn out. It was upside down to Mickey, so he couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be at first, but he did see a rose that seemed to be bleeding, and maybe a cobra - either way, it looked awesome.

 

“That looks awesome, man”

 

“Thanks, got to finish it before wednesday, I have a client from out of town” Mickey nodded. “What’s up?” Drew put the pen down, then, and raised his eyebrows to look at the brunet - who didn’t have any idea how to phrase this. What to ask - fuck, he wasn’t even sure why he was here, or what he wanted. But he knew that if he asked Jayme, he would freak out, so Drew was all he had. He just wanted to know if he needed to be worried - like seriously worried, because the other day, he had come home to Jayme smoking something. And it hadn’t smelled like weed. Maybe it hadn’t been meth or some shit - but still.

 

“Man, I feel fucking stupid even asking, but… I don’t know how the fuck to handle Jayme getting back into this” He didn’t want to say it, for some reason. “Can I relax, or? ‘Cause I grew up with drugs and shit, but I’ve never dealt with an addict before” Surprisingly enough, honestly. At least not someone who was close to him. “And I can’t really keep him from doing it, he’s a grown man”

 

It had been a while since Mickey and Drew had last talked about this, and Mickey just desperately needed some more help. As whiney as it made him feel.

 

“I called someone to help out, but I don’t know what’s happening with that” Drew said. “Try not to worry, I’ve seen him do a lot worse, yeah? But if you can stop it, then try. We’ll see what happens.” Mickey shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Also - don’t talk to him about it, because he can get really defensive when you doubt him, even if it’s necessary”

 

Oddly enough, those few words made Mickey calm down, just a little bit. And he let his eyes fall back down onto the paper.

 

“Been thinking of getting something, you got any ideas for me?”

 

  
***

 

  
By the time that Mickey entered the apartment once again, another hour or so had passed, and the night was tightly settled outside, the warmth of the home immediately wiping away the numbness that the weather had created in his face and body.

 

“Jay?” Mickey toed his shoes off as he called the name, his jacket following before he headed further into the apartment, looking for his boyfriend.

 

“Bedroom” The deep voice responded, and the brunet took a detour out into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a can of root beer; partly to sober up from the slight bit of alcohol he had had, but also because the cold had just made him thirsty.

 

“Said fuck you to the construction site today” Mickey called across the apartment, then. “Got a job as a bartender” As he said the last bit, he headed out of the kitchen and walked over towards the bedroom, entering it, but soon stopping dead in his tracks. “Holy shit” His eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he stood there, just watching his boyfriend were he sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his cellphone.

 

“What?” Jayme looked confused as he raised his head, teeth absentmindedly grasping his bottom lip, their eyes connecting from across the room as he waited for Mickey to elaborate on his surprise. He didn’t need to, though, because soon he got it, chuckling once as he nodded and reached up, his long, tattooed fingers threading through the bleach blond strands. “Oh, yeah. Got to re-do it, dying it back tomorrow” Mickey swallowed, trying to figure out how he felt about it - in a way, it was strange that something as simple as changing a hair color could make such a big difference, and as much as he loved the blue - this was fucking hot, too. “But that’s awesome about the job, yeah” Jayme said then, putting his phone down as he stood up, taking a few steps closer to the other man. ”If it’ll make you happier” Mickey nodded, taking a swallow from the soda before putting it down onto the television stand and walking closer to Jayme as well.

 

Whether he felt them to be shaky or having moved to fast, that tug in his chest whenever they were near would probably always be there, and it was the reason why he would never allow either of those things to blow them up. At least he hoped so.

 

“Think so” Mickey agreed. Then the eye contact broke in between them, and Mickey instead looked up towards the blond hair, unable to keep his mouth from forming a slight smile - his boyfriend had always been the one with the blue hair, but fuck, he liked this. His left hand rested on his waist as he used his right one to reach up - it was fucking ridiculous how far he had to reach, honestly - his fingers ruffling through the strands just as Jayme had done to himself a moment earlier.

 

“You like it?” Jayme hummed the question, and Mickey could do nothing but nod once.

 

“It’s fucking hot”

 

  
***

 

  
It didn’t take more than twenty minutes before Mickey was underneath Jayme, tugging desperately at the white hair, both of them dangerously close to the edge - for the second time - because, hell, if Mickey wouldn’t see his boyfriend blond for another few months, then he would take as much as he could get, because it was likely that it was even hotter than the blue.

 

His legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, hands curled into fists, tugging just as hard as he felt the large hands groap his thighs, the cock moving in and out of him at a rapid pace, hitting the exact right spot inside of him again, and again, and again.

 

“Fucking hell” Jayme cursed, face buried in Mickey’s neck as he tightened his hold on him, moans escaping them both. “So fucking close” Mickey just tightened all of his limbs around him as a response, beginning to work his hips back, trying to make the thrusts all that more powerful, his chest feeling as if it was going to explode - until finally, they were both there, at the same time.

 

Mickey came untouched, his load shooting out onto both of their chests, Jayme filling up the condom. For a second, they were frozen, and then they both just sort of collapsed, Mickey’s legs falling down onto the mattress again, his fists loosening, fingers instead sorting through the soft strands of hair, both of their eyes shut as they felt their bodies throb in aftermath.

 

In fact, they were both on their way to falling asleep, just as they were. That was, until the heavy knocking interrupted them. Somebody who obviously wanted to be let into the apartment.

 

“Who the fuck is that?” Mickey sighed, feeling Jayme shrug against him, not moving an inch.

 

“Fuck if I know. They’ll go away” They both relaxed again, breathing syncing up. The knocking, however, wasn’t letting up in the slightest bit, even thirty seconds after - maybe a full minute. So eventually, Jayme was forced to sigh, and after dropping a kiss to Mickey’s collarbone, he pushed himself up, wiping his chest off with a random discarded t shirt.

 

Dressed in another one, along with a pair of boxers, he left his boyfriend exhausted on the bed as he tiredly made his way throughout the apartment, wanting to get rid of whoever it was so that he could go back. The cement floor was freezing underneath his feet, so much so that it was almost a relief when he got to the doormat, and he could unlock the door, letting it swing open.

 

Of course, the relief didn’t last very long. Because fuck. No.

 

“Jonathan. The fuck are you doing here?” Jayme could hear the growl in his own voice, but of course the other man didn’t care - as usual, he kept that annoying smile on his face, and he crossed his arms, shrugging.

 

“I missed my little brother”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I decided on Brett Tucker for Jonathan's Fc.


	25. Understand, Once He Was A Family Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mandy, what the fuck.” The words were nothing but a sigh as he rounded the counter and headed out into the rest of the bar, taking a long few steps before he could wrap his arms around her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't spell checked, i suck

Mickey managed to wait for about three minutes before his eyebrows drew together in annoyance and confusion, his palms being planted against the mattress as he pushed himself up to sit, his bare feet soon pressing against the cold floor. Quickly, he found his shirt and a pair of boxers on the floor - the boxers could easily be Jayme’s, but he couldn’t be bother to figure it out right now - all he cared about was covering himself up so that he could walk out of the bedroom, just in case whoever was at the door hadn’t left yet. Which - if he were to take the muffled voices into account - they hadn’t.

 

With his hand wrapping around the doorframe, he looked out, not seeing anything yet - thanks to the thick ass wall that separated the kitchen from the hall and the door. Maybe he should turn around and let Jayme talk to whoever was at the door in peace - that would also mean less trouble for himself, most likely - he still hadn’t been introduced to anybody in his life, save for Winnie and Drew, and honestly - it was kind of nice. But as the voices grew louder, Mickey distinctively recognized not just annoyance, but anger in the one that he knew belonged to his boyfriend. Soon after, another voice followed - one that sounded extremely similar.

 

Now Mickey was sure that whoever the fuck had been banging on the door, interrupting their… well, banging - was doing some stupid ass shit to anger Jayme, so before he could really think over his actions, he crossed his arms and tugged on the familiar Milkovich attitude, taking the few steps over the cold floor until he was standing in the hall, perfect view of Jayme’s back, and the random guy’s face.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey’s chin lifted in time with his words, and he knew that he looked threatening - he had been doing this daily as he had grown up - threatened people, or crossed his arms, kept a perfect stance to make them give up. At his voice, though, Jayme’s body seemed to relax - only not in a good way - more in a way that would suggest that he was giving up. In a ‘Oh, no’ way. In a ‘Fuck. I really didn’t want these two to meet’ kind of way. Something that Mickey picked up on surprisingly quickly. Another thing that the quickly picked up on? The guys’ accent. It matched Jayme’s. It also matched Winnie’s and Drew’s, so the odds that this was some random drug dealer that he had found a year ago - or some stupid shit like that - was unlikely.

 

The man looked at Jayme - who’s body was still frozen, head dropped as if he was looking down onto the floor. For a minute, he didn’t react to Mickey’s words at all - he just continued to look at him. With a facial expression that was just about completely unreadable. Then he somehow seemed to snap out of it and he looked up, right at Mickey’s face, his mouth breaking out into a large smile - not a friendly smile - more of a fake one, or something in between, he wasn’t sure.

 

“You must be Mickey”, he stated. Frowning deeper, Mickey propped his chin up even a little bit higher, letting his eyes wander over the man - he wasn't quite as tall as Jayme, though certainly above average. A lot stronger built as well, clearly at least a decade older - maybe more. The hair on his head looked soft, flopped over into dirty blonde curls - probably not too different from what Jayme’s would have looked like, had he not damaged it with years and years of bleach. But despite all of the differences, there were also an awful lot of similarities. Little ones. Like the smile, and the eyes - the accent, obviously. So even before the next words came out of his mouth, Mickey had figured it out. “My little brother must not have wanted to introduce us quite yet.” The man took a few steps forwards, and Jayme did as well - though his led him closer to the door, his forehead in his hand, refusing to look at either of them as his brother reached a hand forwards to greet Mickey. “I’m Jonathan.”

 

Mickey did what he usually did and refused the hand, but the confusion left his face, little by little.

 

“James, why didn’t you bother telling me what a good looking guy you scored?” His hand curled around Jayme’s shoulder, and finally he war turned around, seemingly gaining some more confidence - enough to straighten up and look at his brother, at least.

 

“Because we haven’t talked in months. What. Are you doing here?” Mickey would jump in and say something, but he didn’t know what - had it been a drug dealer looking for money, or an ex boyfriend looking for a warm bed, then he would have said something. Cursed them out, threw them out, probably beat them up - but he couldn’t beat up Jayme’s brother for nothing, and for that matter - for the moment - he was still rather blindsided that said brother even existed. So instead, he ended up in the background once again, arms crossed at Jayme glared at Jonathan, and Jonathan pretended not to understand that he didn’t want him there.

 

Looking over his brother’s shoulder, the older man found Mickey again, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Give us a second alone, yeah?” Not knowing what else to do, Mickey shrugged and turned back around, heading in towards the bedroom again.

 

Jayme watched his boyfriend’s back for a good few seconds, waiting until he was completely out of sight before the turned completely towards Jon, pressing a hand to his chest, causing him to throw his hands up in mock defense.

 

“I don’t want you here, yeah? Nobody wants you here.” In typical Jonathan fashion, all he did at that was to grin, tilting his head somewhat to the side as his hand gently wrapped around his brother’s wrist, pushing his hand off of his body.

 

“That’s a little harsh, no?” Jayme swallowed - maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t. But right now, he had enough things to deal with without his brother coming in to ruin things - the way that he always did. Silence sat in between them for a moment or two, and Jon looked over his brother’s shoulder. “Mickey seems nice. He takes care of you?” Now, Jayme was forced to take a step backwards to keep his knuckles from hitting his cheek - he would never do that, actually, but sometimes he was tempted. But only with this one person who knew how to press his buttons perfectly. He sighed in an attempt to gather his thoughts, and then he looked back up once again.

 

“How do you know his name?” Jonathan shrugged.

 

“Andrew’s a nice guy. We talk sometimes.” Resting his palms together, Jayme dipped his head, index fingers pressing against the tear ducts of his eyes, sighing inwardly, doing his best to gather some strength to deal with this. He would never call his brother a bad guy - in fact, he couldn’t remember a single time that he had been outright mean to him - but god fucking damn it, he was such an older brother.

 

“If you were coming to the states, why didn’t I know?” Jonathan picked his duffle bag up from the floor, shrugging once again, their shoulders bumping together as he passed the younger man, walking into the apartment, ignoring the fact that he had gotten no kind of invitation to do so whatsoever.

 

“I called you. You never answer your phone.” Alright, Jayme had to admit that one might be on him. “Anyway…” Jon continued, throwing his bag up onto the couch and then heading for the kitchen, his brother following. “Hailey threw me out, so I figured I might as well visit my little brother. Mend my broken heart, you know?”

 

“Mhm…” Jayme hummed his understanding, though frowning as he leaned against the wall. “How many of her sisters did you bang before she had enough?” Jonathan turned around with a glass of water in his hand, leaning against the sink, grinning once again, of course ignoring the question - the younger man would be absolutely disgusted with the answer, and they both knew it.

 

“Are you hungry?” It was Jon who asked, and the tiny piece of Jayme who had accepted the fact that his brother was back in town immediately closed off again. This was why he never liked having him here - all he ever wanted to do was fix him.

 

  
***

 

 

The water that the wet cloth left behind shone slightly in the afternoon sun that came in through the window, drying up within a few seconds. The tattooed fingers curled around the material as it cleaned up traces of beer, whiskey and the occasional crushed peanut. Mickey’s mind was on nothing but the cleaning either - it was all he wanted to think about. There was a small speck of some kind of black rubber at the edge of the wooden counter top, and he wasn't sure what exactly it was, but it disappeared after he rubbed the cloth over it a couple of times, then he moved on to the rest of the surface.

 

For the past few days, this bar had been the one and only place where Mickey had been able to get any kind of peace, or feel at home in any way whatsoever. It reminded him of the alibi a fair amount, and seeing as he couldn’t exactly go back there, this would have to do. The owners and the customers weren’t too bad either - better than back home, even. A part of him did want to go back, see the alibi, see the houses, all of that, but he really did not want to deal with seeing the people - at least not the majority of them. His brothers, his son and even Lana were fine, but other than that - he would dread it. Which had all been fine as long as shit with Jayme had been amazing, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. With the way he had been drinking and smoking, and his brother coming back into town for one random reason or another, Mickey just - fuck. Now he was thinking too much again, damn it.

 

Immediately, he went back to scrubbing the top of the bar clean, even though it was practically sparkling at this point; he even shook his head to himself, wondering if he could switch brains, it would be extremely helpful. Or revert back to his seventeen yearold self. He had been a lot less empathetic and emotional - or at the very least, he had hid it a fuck of a lot better. With his teeth digging into the inside of his bottom lip, he abandoned the cleaning and threw the cloth over his shoulder without thinking much of it, soon feeling the dampness seep in through the thin, black material of his V-neck. Alas, he didn’t take it off and instead turned around, beginning to count all of the bottles of alcohol - people would soon start pouring in for the night, everybody wanting to have a drink.

 

The door behind him opened up, somebody walking in. Mickey ignored it at first, figuring whoever it was could spare a second or two for him to finish counting the bottles of Jack. But when the somewhat soft ‘Mick?’ reached his ears, he directly found himself spinning around, confusion covering his face like a thick blanket - until it was converted into surprise.

 

Because there she was standing - black hair a lot longer than the last time he had seen her, the strands blending in to the color of the cheap bomber jacket that was probably about a size or two too late for her small frame. Her face was free of makeup, but the last time that he had seen her, she had looked broken - she looked tired now, sure; actually, maybe not tired as much as nervous - but her face was completely free of bruises as far as he could tell, and her face had filled out a little bit. In a good way - a way that almost caused his gut to warm up, because she looked so good - healthy.

 

“Mandy, what the fuck.” The words were nothing but a sigh as he rounded the counter and headed out into the rest of the bar, taking a long few steps before he could wrap his arms around her body.

 

They had never been these kind of siblings - in fact, he kind of guessed that he could count their hugs on two hands - maybe even one - but he couldn’t help it now, and by the way in which he felt her skinny arms return the hug around his waist, he could tell that she felt the same way. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had gotten the hell out of Chicago with that asshole - all he knew was that it had been a long, long time. And for the past few months, he hadn’t had any clue as to where she was - or even if she was alive. Having his baby sister in his arms, just caused his throat to tighten in a way that he couldn’t even explain.

 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey asked once they parted; the words were filled with a lot more happiness and affection than he had meant. Both of them went to sit down at the bar, Mickey reaching over to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring them both a couple of fingers.

 

“Lana told me where you worked.” Mandy explained, nodding once in appreciation as she picked the glass up, pressing the rim of it in between her lips and feeling the familiar burn in her throat.

 

“You went to see Lana?” Mickey questioned; he had to say that he was incredibly confused, and the shock of seeing his sister again hadn’t quite worn off just yet, even as she was sitting right in front of him. It wasn’t as if it had been years or some shit, but he had still been worried about her for so many months, it felt surreal to know that she was alright.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few weeks - I got away from Kenyatta and came back to see you, but they told me you had moved?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing as her brother’s lips parted to explain, but before he could, she continued to talk. “That you had a new boyfriend up here? Which pretty much made me fall out of my chair, because I thought you and Ian were great.”

 

“Yeah, not so much…” Mickey mumbled into his glass, Mandy nodding, pausing before continuing to catch him up.

 

“Figured that by now. And that you went to prison - Mickey what the fuck?!” The outburst was sudden, almost as if she had suddenly remembered one of the biggest things that he had hid from her - well, not hid, but that she hadn’t found out. Whatever. Which he knew was shitty - all of the Milkovich siblings called each other if anybody went in, even if it was fucking Terry - no one had bothered Mandy, mostly because they hadn’t known where to find her. So maybe it wasn’t Mickey’s fault after all.

 

“It was a misunderstanding.” Kind of. Not really. Whatever. She stared him down for another minute before nodding, rolling her eyes and swallowing down some more of the whiskey.

 

“So I just ended up staying there for a few weeks, I was always planning on driving up here to find you, but it took me a while.” She paused for a short second after that. “I’m sorry.” Mickey nodded, not exactly sure what to say to that - not that he blamed her in the slightest. But he had been worried. It would have been nice to get a phone call - if not from her, then from Lana or Iggy. “Are you gonna tell me about him?” Mickey had been looking down into his glass, but now he looked back up, his sister’s face a few inches closer than it had been before, a more playful look covering her features, the hint of a smile.

 

“Who?” Rolling her eyes, she lifted her glass up from the counter, slamming it down just hard enough to make a point.

 

“The tattooed kangaroo?” Now it was Mickey’s turn to roll his eyes, buying himself a little bit more time by reaching for the bottle of Jack to pour himself some more, doing the same for his sister. He screwed the top back onto the bottle, taking his time with the extremely simple task as well.

 

“Should have known Lana had talked to you about that shit…” Mickey grumbled - his relationship with Jayme had gotten serious quickly, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t still new, and even if it hadn’t been a new thing, he still really was not the kind of person who loved talking about that kind of stuff with people, even people that he was extremely close to.

 

“So? Tell me.” Mandy pressed. “How did you meet? Is he a rebound or the real thing?” Frowning, Mickey took a drink, their identical eyes focused on each other as he shook his head.

 

“Nah, he’s not a fucking rebound.” He could never boil down what he had with Jayme to some kind of fling to get over Ian - that being said - it was way too fucking early to say that it was the ‘real thing’ or ‘the one’. Fuck no. “He’s great.” Mickey found himself adding then, nodding to himself as he looked down into the glass of whiskey in front of him, knowing very well that his sister wanted to hear more, although he wasn’t all too sure what that would be.

 

But as she continued to push for more information, he gave in. He made a conscious decision not to share any details of his boyfriend’s life - what he had been through, what he was going through, that wasn’t his shit to talk about. Instead he just talked about Jayme - the person.

 

Mickey mumbled about how he had taken him in when he had been sitting in front of that building, so cold that his jaw was going numb from his teeth chattering. He talked about how kind he had been, and how respectful - and how fucking weird it had been, because he had been so different from anybody that he had been used to. He talked about how fucking tall he was, and he talked about his stupid ass neon blue hair. And by the end of it, he was once again reminded of how fucking happy he made him, even if there already seemed to be shit for them to go through.

 

“I’m really happy for you, Mick.” The words sounded odd coming out of his sister’s mouth, Mickey realized. Not because he didn’t think that she didn’t mean them, but because she did just that. For the most part, whenever they interacted, they teased, and pushed each other around, but she was genuine now, and maybe so was he. As he looked back up, he nodded in a silent thank you.

 

“You sure that asshole is out of your life?” Mandy nodded at that.

 

“I really fucking hope so.” After that, her stance almost seemed to change, just a little bit, and she straightened up on the barstool, becoming more serious. “There was another thing that I needed to tell you.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised, his fingers staying loosely curled around his glass as he looked at her, waiting. Although it seemed as if she need to take a few seconds to gather her thoughts before she could do just that, hence why she continued to adjust her position on the stool a few more times, and then moved a strand of the jet-black hair out of her face.

 

“Look, when I first got back to Chicago I was obviously looking for you, but one of the first people I ran into was Lip.” Mickey tired - really tried - to keep the disgusted look from washing over his face, but he wasn’t all that talented of an actor, so his lips parted anyway, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Mands don’t tell me you’re back together with that clown.” Lip was a thousand times better than that Kenyatta dude - even Mickey could admit that - but that didn’t mean that he had to like the guy.

 

“Mick.” Mandy nearly whined, and he realized that he should keep his mouth shit for at least long enough for her to get to the point, so that’s what he did. Bringing the drink up to his lips, he nodded once, silently asking her to continue. “We’re getting married.”

 

At that, Mickey’s hand dropped, the bottom of his glass slamming against the counter - not in anger, just absolute shock - out of all the fucking things that could have come out of her mouth. It would have been bad enough if they had started to bond again, or gotten back together - fucking marriage? All Mickey could possibly think about was when Lip would end up deciding that she wasn’t good enough for him - when in reality, it was obviously the other way around - and then he would leave her. It had happened before. Hadn’t it? They had broken up so many times, he couldn’t even remember. All he knew was that he hated the guy.

 

“Mandy, are you even fucking thinking?”

 

“I am.” She shot back before he had even finished the sentence. “Look, I know shit didn’t work out with you and Ian, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t work with me and Lip.” Mickey swallowed down the word vomit that wanted to come up, forcing himself to continue listening to her. “We’ve loved each other since we were teenagers, and then we were apart, and now things are good. We’ve been back together for a while now, and everything’s amazing. Why wait?” Mickey bit his tongue, leaning his head backwards, just a little bit before he nodded once.

 

“You know how I feel about it.” Now it was Mandy’s turn to nod.

 

“Yeah. And I’m sorry. I wish things were different. But I can’t dump a guy just because he doesn’t get along with my brother. Would you dump your boyfriend if I met him and hated his guts?”

 

“No.” Mickey shrugged, and Mandy stared him down, causing him to fold. “Alright.”

 

  
***

 

  
Almost five hours after Mandy had left the bar to go back to the Gallagher house, Mickey was finally allowed to leave and head back to the apartment - it was late now, and he could feel the pressure in his feet that came from being on them, bartending for hours upon hours. He never minded it, though - decent paycheque for very simple work - as supposed to some of the shit he used to be down with, at least.

 

As soon as he entered the brick building, his steps begun to echo throughout it as he took the steps two by two, hardly able to wait until he could grab something to drink, maybe sit down on the couch. Hopefully there would be some kind of left over pizza or something in the fridge. At least he could hope.

 

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he fished the keys up, unlocking the front door, one lock at a time before he could finally tug it open, immediately feeling the warmth of the apartment in his face, something inside of him sighing in relief at being back. He kicked his shoes off and got rid of his jacket, then headed inside, ready to see Jayme by the table or on the couch, wanting to kiss him and then sit down right next to him.

 

Of course Mickey had forgotten about their uninvited guest.

 

But as soon as he entered the livingroom and turned around to face the kitchen, there he was. With a can of root beer in his hand and his hand curled around a large phone, eyes focused on the screen.

 

“Yo, where’s Jayme?” Jonathan seemed startled at Mickey’s voice, jumping ever so slightly at it as he looked up, spotting him standing in the middle of the apartment. Once the surprise wore off, though, he seemed to soften somewhat.

 

“He’s in the bedroom. I think I annoyed him a little bit too much.” Mickey nodded once, ready to turn around and join his boyfriend in silence, deciding that he would get something to eat tomorrow morning instead. He had had enough sibling drama for the day. “Wait.” Which was why he groaned inwardly when the familiar, yet incredibly unfamiliar voice called him back to the kitchen, yet he went, taking the few steps over and leaning against the opposite side of the cement counter that separated the livingroom from the kitchen. “I know I was being a bit of an annoying cunt this morning, yeah? It’s just because he’s my little brother.”

 

Mickey nodded once, but didn’t say anything, so Jonathan continued.

 

“I bust on him a lot, but I care. Which was probably why Andrew called me up - said he was getting wrapped up in the drugs again?” At that, Mickey crossed his arms, his demeanour softening somewhat - he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t realized the connection before, but he did now - this was the guy that Drew thought could get Jayme to straighten out again - his brother. It made sense.

 

“Yeah, I don’t know, man. I grew up with that shit, but when I met him he wasn’t doing any and now he is. Figured I should say something.” Especially since he only really knew some things about Jayme, just as Jayme only knew some things about himself. They hadn’t had enough time to get to know each other down to the core yet, and they probably wouldn’t for a long time.

 

“He looks skinnier than the last time I saw him.” Jonathan added then, to which Mickey said nothing. He may have grown up with drugs, but he didn’t have any fucking clue what to do when somebody just decided not to eat. That was an eating disorder, right? He couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of it, but he knew that it wasn’t good.

 

“Been about that size since I met him.” Mickey said, honestly. “But yeah, he doesn’t eat that much.”

 

“Have you ever tried calling him out on any of it?”

 

Mickey hadn’t - not really - a few times, maybe. For the most part, he said nothing to Jayme’s face, because he wasn’t sure what to say - he wasn’t sure if what would come out of his mouth would be insensitive or some shit, and thereby make it worse. It was better to keep his mouth shut, at least that’s what he had figured. But he could remember one or two times when he had poked at some of it, and no - he didn’t react to well.

 

“Yeah, he gets annoyed.”

 

“I’ll try to beat some sense into his skull, yeah? That’s why I’m here.” Mickey was still somewhat suspicious of the man as he backed away, yet he nodded.

 

“Thanks, man.” He didn’t have a better option than to trust him for now.

 

  
***

 

  
By the time that Mickey exited the bathroom, he still had a towel hanging around his neck from the shower, lazily rubbing some of his hair to get rid of the let over water. One of Jayme’s large ass t shirts were hanging over his upper body, a pair of his own sweatpants on his legs. All he wanted to do was to lay down on the bed and go to sleep - he had been up since six or seven this morning, barely a single second off his feet.

 

Jayme was sitting on his side of the bed, leaned back against the headboard with his phone in his hands, completely focused on the screen. Mickey ran the towel over his head a few extra times and then he threw it aside, taking the spot right next to his boyfriend, who’s hair was thankfully back to blue at this point. The blond was hot, but the blue was him.

 

It was the silence that passed in between them that first clued Mickey in that something was wrong - usually when he got into bed, Jayme would tug him into his side, maybe kiss him and then ask him about his day - or ask him what he wanted to do tomorrow, or ask him about a tattoo that he wanted to get himself - some kind of shit like that. Now there was nothing - he didn’t even look up from his phone.

 

“Man, what’s wrong?” Mickey frowned, turning a little bit to the side and bringing a hand up to run his fingers through the turquoise hair, but his fingertips barely brushed the strands before Jayme tilted his head to the side, dodging it, but saying nothing. “The fuck I do?” He would be able to handle all of the fucking screaming in the world, but one of his absolute worst pet peeves were when people just went quiet, not telling him why. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done shit.

 

Without saying a single word, Jayme handed his phone over to Mickey, and he immediately saw the conversation on the screen.

 

Jayme: _You know why my asshole brother’s in town?_  
Drew: _Yeah_  
Jayme: _And?_  
Drew: _Mickey said you were smoking again_  
Drew: _Better safe then sorry, yeah? Jon’s the only one who can ever get you to straighten out_

 

Mickey nodded, handing it back.

 

“So?”

 

“So-“ Jayme abruptly threw the phone down onto the bed and pushed himself to stand up, causing Mickey to do the same, if only out of habit to make sure that he had the same chances as his opponent, should this turn into a fight. “-what the fuck gives you the right to decide what’s good for me and what’s not? You gonna tell my friends what I like to do in bed, too?”

 

“That’s fucking unfair as hell, man - when I met you you wouldn’t even have cans of beer in the fridge, now you’re smoking weed, I shouldn’t say anything?!” Since he had started up the smoking again, he had been eating even less, too - Mickey was worried. He couldn’t help it. Drew had once told him that Mickey had never seen Jayme at his worst - and he knew that he did not want to. Mickey would have been great with getting high and drunk together every single night, but not if it meant that it would lead Jayme down to worse shit again, he wouldn’t take that.

 

“No! No, because you don’t fucking know me, Mickey, okay?!” That was when it went from argument to fighting and screaming. Mickey’s eyes blackened, and Jayme’s stance grew colder. “You’ve been here less than three months, I was doing fine before you, I’ll do fine after you, I can take care of myself, yeah? Just butt the fuck out!”

 

“You obviously fucking can’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been on the street to begin with!” That was unfair, and Mickey knew this, but he couldn’t help it. He would never, ever have gone to Drew if he wasn’t worried. But it wasn’t just the smoking, it was Jayme too - he had changed - not a lot, just enough - he got irritated easier, he wasn’t making as many jokes as he had when they had first met. Maybe that was because they were getting closer, but Mickey had also been around enough drugs to know that they did change you.

 

“If you’re not gonna let me be an adult, then maybe we should just fucking break up!”

 

“Maybe we fucking should!” The very second that the words came out of their mouths, both men seemed to freeze in realization of what they had just said.

 

For a short, horrible second things were quiet, eyes connected. Then Mickey grabbed his jacket, and he left the apartment.


End file.
